


May Drabble Challenge '19

by Cinlat



Series: Tumblr Prompts & Drabbles [5]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Bounty Hunters, Cousins, F/F, F/M, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Force Sensitivity, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Mandalorians - Freeform, May Drabbles '19, Multi, Nonverbal Communication, Sithy Bunch, Space Punks, Tumblr Prompt, best butt challenge, brother trouble, cross-faction ships, head strong children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-02-27 13:37:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 25,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18740128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: A month long collection of short drabbles for a prompt challenge on Tumblr





	1. Ari/Dina

 

**Prompt:**   “It’ll only hurt a little, I think…” (Dance)  
**Characters:**  Ari Drellik/Dina Volezz  
**Story:**  Sithy Bunch  
**Word Count:**  616  
**A/N:**  Ari is the son of Talos and Ma’at, though still counted among the princes and princesses of Zakuul by Tuathal because he loves all of the kids. Dina is Ari’s Jedi girlfriend. Dina belongs to Kierra(ao3) kunoichi-ume (tumblr)

  

* * *

 

Ari swallowed as he approached his new girlfriend. There had been a lot of women over the years, but all were passing flings. None came home to meet the family or stuck around for more than a few weeks at most. The life of a young prince was high paced, and he and Nuada were constantly on the move. Then, Dina had needed their help in that dingy little bar, and taken hold of his heart.

Petite and pale, Ari saw past her sickly exterior to the strength inside. Dina had a good heart and more courage than any other woman he’d known. She rarely worried for herself, but cared deeply about the wellbeing of others. Her smile had done him in the first time they’d met. Even while weak from fever, it had lit up the room.

Sensing his approach, Dina turned with welcome delight. Ari watched the way her long hair sway with the motion, resisting the urge to pull the clips back so that it wouldn’t cover her face. He didn’t. Ari knew how much Dina hated her implants, why she chose to hide them behind a wealth of thick, snow colored locks. Stars, she was beautiful though.

“Hello, beautiful.” Ari loved the way Dina blushed when he complimented her. A light pink colored otherwise pale cheeks, giving her a becoming glow. She tipped her head shyly, looking at him through blonde lashes as he pulled her into a hug. With a kiss to her forehead, Ari steadied his nerves. “Have you considered my offer?”

Dina’s shoulders tensed against Ari’s chest. If Dina refused, he simply wouldn’t go, prince or no prince. It would be pointless to show at a royal ball without a date, and no other woman would do. Pulling away, she offered a meek smile. “There will be so many people.” The words were nearly a whisper, trepidation dripping from every one.

Dina took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I hate the thought of everyone staring at me.” How could they not, Aric wondered. She was a vision in normal robes, in a ball gown, she would appear as a goddess.

Ari nodded, thinning their link through the Force so that his disappointment didn’t make Dina feel guilty. He was about to offer an alternative, when she continued with a long exhale. “But, for you, I would do anything.”

Sputtering, Ari bent to look Dina in the eyes. “You mean it?” That Dina would accompany him to the anniversary of his parents taking over Zakuu, that she’d allow his mother to doll her up in traditional fashion and dance with him in front of the entire empire, meant everything to him.

Suddenly, Ari’s chest felt too small for his rapidly beating heart.

Dine nodded, capturing her lip between her teeth. Unable to contain himself any longer, Ari pulled her into a kiss. She shook her head at his excitement. “Oh come on, it’ll only hurt a little.” Her surprise backhand to his stomach drive a grunt from Ari, and he closed one eye to rub at it playfully. “I think.”

“You owe me,” Dina reminded, nose wrinkling as she turned toward the door that let to Ma’at’s dressing chambers. His mother waited impatiently, hoping to finally be able to dress to decent girls, as she so often teased. Not that Ari blamed her. There was no telling what the twins would arrive wearing or who they would drag along. And Ari’s baby sister was still too young for such formal dances.

Pulling Dina’s back against his chest, Ari wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “I promise, I’ll make every second worth it.”

* * *

 


	2. Bey'wan/Wanda

**Prompt:**    “I’m a mess.” (Leather)   
 **Characters:**  Bey’wan Aygo/Mama Wanda  
 **Story:**  The Lost Medallion  
 **Word Count:**  795  
 **A/N:**  I really love Bey’wan, and Wanda was lonely. So these two well seasoned veterans get to find love in the alliance.

* * *

 

“Are you sure you used to be an admiral?” Wanda asked with laughter ringing in her voice. Bey’wan Aygo cursed as he staggered to the co-pilot’s chair, then flopped into it with all the grace of a drunken rancor. The leather creaked in complaint, pulling another snicker from his hostess. Wanda slid grey eyes crinkled with laughter in his direction. “In a real, live fleet? Out in space?”

“They didn’t have your skill with a stick,” the Bothan groused as he scrubbed at the stain on his jacket. His mug had been full when he left the galley. Now, most of it soaked into his clothes and the fur beneath. Sighing, Bey’wan looked over at his new, spunky girlfriend. It was their two month anniversary. He’d always thought himself above counting those things but age put time in perspective. They didn’t have a lot left to waste without factoring in the war, so planned to enjoy the little victories. “Might as well turn back, I’m a mess.”

“No can do, lover,” Wanda replied with a wink. “You and my late husband are about the same size. Check the closet for something to wear.”

Bey’wan lifted a bushy eyebrow. “Really?” Bothan males weren’t the large, strapping sort that most humans preferred. While Bey’wan was tall for his species, he still cast his gaze up at most of the people in the Alliance. Except for Wanda. She was one of the few who managed to be shorter than him.

Shrugging, Wanda leveled the ship and activated the autopilot after making the jump to hyperspace. Bey’wan didn’t know where she was taking him, only that the commander looked far too pleased about it. “He was a shorty,” Wanda replied as she climbed from her seat. “All three of our boys were taller than their daddy by the age of thirteen, but you’d have never thought it by the way they tucked tail when he came after ‘em.” She paused and sighed. “He loved those boys.”

Bey’wan chuckled and nudged Wanda out of the cramped hallway towards their goal. He didn’t have children of his own, and loved hearing Wanda’s tales of their antics. She rarely spoke of her husband, but that was understandable. Bey’wan didn’t like to bring up his late wife either. Too many years had passed. Once into the roomier part of the ship, Bey’wan pulled Wanda to a stop and kissed the top of her head. “Tell you what, find me a clean shirt, and I’ll buy you a drink.”

Wanda patted Bey’wan’s chest with a snort. “You’re buying me more than one, buddy.”

“It’s your fault my caf spilled,” the Bothan grumbled after the woman. He followed her into the room, tripping over a pair of boots that didn’t look like his. “I see now how you stay so spry.” There were always hazards on her ship, causing him to duck, step over, or dodge something. Not to mention the small army of droids that Sadio provided to help maintain the old rust bucket.

“Still haven’t gotten your space legs back, Admiral?” Wanda enunciated the word with a purr that belied her backwater accent and made his heart beat like he was a young man again. Anyone else who spoke to him that way would find themselves on latrine duty, but Wanda made it endearing.

Stepping back as Wanda threw items from an old footlocker over her shoulder, Bey’wan took the opportunity to appreciate the nice body she still sported. Though he wasn’t dumb enough to ask, Bey’wan estimated Wanda to be somewhere in her mid-fifties, maybe closer to his age, but certainly not older. It was good to see someone with experience showing the children running their alliance how it’s done.

“I knew it!” Wanda straightened and waved a brightly colored shirt at Bey’wan. He took it, finding a gaudy, blue fabric covered in tropical flowers and palm trees. With a glare, Bey’wan met Wanda’s equally amused smirk. “You didn’t say it had to be a tasteful shirt. Just a shirt.”

Bey’wan’s protest died on his tongue when Wanda’s fingers curled in his beard. She pulled him close enough to press her lips to his, but stopped short. “I think you’ll look sexy in it. The color will bring out your eyes.”

Using the advantage of a longer snout, Bey’wan stole a kiss. “Only for you. No one back at base better find out about it.”

“Of course not,” Wanda answered with far too much mirth. Bey’wan rolled his eyes before removing the soiled garment to replace with the monstrosity she’d provided. No doubt he’d see holos of himself plastered all over the base when they got back. It was the price of dating a prankster, and one he decided was worth it.


	3. Theron/Vector

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **NSFW**

**Prompt:**    “I could really use a fuck right now.” (Spellbound)   
 **Characters:**  Theron Shan/Vector Hyllus  
 **Story:**  Heart on a Trigger  
 **Word Count:**  2443  
 **A/N:**  Okay, so this one got a little long *snicker* but I’ve had so many requests about how Theron and Vector ended up in bed together, and this prompt provided the perfect catalyst.  **Totally NSFW** …you’ve been warned.  

* * *

 

Theron sighed as he swirled the amber liquid around in his glass. It had been a long day of overtaxing his implants and the effects made themselves known in the form of a splitting headache. He knew better than to push so hard, but there were only so many people on Odessen capable of sorting through the mounds of data. Theron, Zolah, and SCORPIO were the top three, and he didn’t like the idea of that droid having access to their secure files. The fact that Zolah didn’t argue on the machine’s behalf spoke volumes about their previous working relationship.

A shadow blotted out the colorful spotlight that illuminated the cantina in a soft, blue. Theron looked up to find Vector gazing at him with concern in his all black eyes. “May we join you?” Theron waved at the booth across from him in invitation, but wasn’t surprised when the joiner slid in at his side. Vector was from a culture that didn’t understand personal space, and Theron had always found his presence soothing.

“Were you expecting someone?” Vector made an open gesture at the table, and Theron shook his head. He liked this particular corner because there weren’t any cameras aimed at it. He’d made sure of that himself. While spying might be his job, he didn’t fancy becoming a victim of it.

Taking a swig of scotch, Theron looked at the man beside him. “I’d hoped to talk Zolah into taking the rest of the night off, but…”

Vector offered a knowing smile. “Yes, our wife has been–distracted, lately.”

“You too, huh?”  When Vector gave a curt nod, Theron let out a long breath. “I thought it was just me.” Knowing that Zolah had rejected Vector’s advances too went a long way towards making him feel better. It had been almost three weeks since he’d been able to coax her into his bed, assuming that she’d spent more time with Vector. The prospect didn’t bother him, only… “I could really use a fuck right now.”

Theron hadn’t meant to say those words out loud, and nearly laughed when Vector leaned back into the booth with a pained groan. “Indeed.” Theron didn’t miss the way the joiners hand slid under the table, and the idea of Vector being in as much agony as Theron did interesting things to his body.

Resting his arm over the back of the booth, Theron signaled for the server droid. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” Vector responded. The despondent look on the other man’s face reminded Theron that beneath that posh exterior lay a skilled warrior with an appetite of a male as voracious as any other species.

After the serving droid took Vector’s order, Theron couldn’t help but note the sharp plains of his companion’s cheeks, the regal nose and soft lips. Damn, he’d never really paid attention to how handsome Vector was. Not up close. Theron was held, spellbound, buy the beauty of a man he’d known for years. That train of thought led to the question of what kind of lover the joiner was. Was he soft and sweet, like Theron expected, or the sort of quiet man in public who took full control in bed? By the time the droid returned with the drink, Theron had worked himself into a frenzy of fantasies he’d never allowed his imagination to explore. They’d already been together for five years, joined by the Chiss who had stolen both of their hearts. In all that time, Theron hadn’t paid attention to how much of that relationship he’d devoted to Vector; how much of his soul the other man owned.

With his arm still behind Vector’s shoulders, Theron turned toward the joiner to lay his free hand on the man’s thigh. Solid, black eyes took in the placement, then met Theron’s gaze. Licking his lips, Theron leaned closer to whisper in Vector’s ear. “What do you say we get these drinks to go?”

“We would like that very much.” The raspiness in Vector’s voice sent a shiver along Theron’s spine. Together, they scooted from the booth and made for the quarters all three shared. Each had a separate room, though they tended to bounce from one to the other. While Theron had slept in Vector’s bed, it had always been because Zolah’s flailing had driven him from his own. On more than one occasion, Theron had woken to the feeling of a hard cock pressed against his thigh through Vector’s silk pajama pants. He wasn’t sure what had kept him from rolling over to kiss the man, but Theron didn’t plan to make that mistake again.

The door slid open to reveal a quiet apartment. Theron’s implants scanned their surroundings out of habit, but Vector seemed less interested in security. With a strength that surprised him, the joiner pinned Theron to the wall and captured his lips in a desperate kiss. “We have wanted to taste you for so long,” the man whispered before opening his mouth to let Theron’s tongue invade.

A firm thigh pressed gently between Theron’s legs, and he couldn’t help but take advantage of the friction. Vector was taller than Theron by a few inches, and kept one hand behind his head to offer the best angle. When they paused for a breath, Theron panted. “Bedroom?”

“Ours is closer,” came Vector’s equally ragged response.

Kicking off his boots, Theron nearly tumbled them both to the floor when he tripped. Vector tisked playfully, nipping at Theron’s throat before hauling him into the room. Before the door had locked, Vector pushed Theron’s back against the wall and stepped away. Theron started to protest, until the joiner slid his ornate jacket off to drape over the chair. Long fingers worked at the buttons down his shirt, his half smirk showing a man clearly pleased by Theron’s undivided attention.

Vector’s body was different from Theron’s in every way. The joiner’s was smooth, pale skin stretched over the lean muscle of an athlete. Theron couldn’t drag his gaze away from the ever widening gap in Vector’s shirt, and he might have gasped when it slid free altogether. He’d seen Vector shirtless before, hell, he’d seen the man naked, but never while his own body burned with such need. They’d flirted over the years, even made suggestive passes, but Theron had always pulled back for fear of complicating the good thing he had going with all of them. After seeing the desire in Vector’s eyes… “I’m an idiot.”

The joiner paused at the snaps of his pants, and there was no mistaking to look of hurt on the man’s face. Theron cursed himself. He had a bad habit of verbalizing the middle of a train of thought, and it always got him into some sort of trouble. Quickly, he added, “for not doing this sooner.”

Stepping forward, Theron pushed Vector’s hands out of the way so that he could unsnap the man’s pants. Vector kept those deep, soul searching eyes on Theron’s face until the spy slid one hand into the opening. Vector let out a shaky breath when Theron’s fingers wrapped around an erection so hard it was a wonder the man could walk. He gave a few, slow strokes to gauge how Vector liked to be touched.

Without warning, Vector slammed into Theron with enough force to drive him back against the wall. His hand was pinned between them until Vector pulled it free to press their bodies flush. The feel of a hard shaft rubbing against his pants made Theron’s head spin. What was left of his ability to reason fled when warm hands slid up Theron’s stomach and over his chest. Vector gave his nipple a light squeeze, then chuckled when Theron growled.

“We need to get out of these clothes,” the spy urged against Vector’s questing licks. Theron thumped his head against the wall when the man’s tongue skirted his throat. “Right. Now.”

“Very well.” Vector’s hands trailed a blazing path to Theron’s belt, one that turned scorching when his lips followed. Had Theron been capable of logical thought, it wouldn’t have surprised him when the joiner deftly opened his pants and slid them down Theron’s legs. Nor would he have squeaked like a girl when hot lips enveloped him.

Looking down his body, Theron met the all black eyes that gazed up with adoration and loyalty. Theron took a steadying breath when Vector pulled back to flick the tip of his cock with a skilled tongue, then let it out in a growled curse when the joiner’s mouth took him in to the base. “Oh, fuck,” Theron gasped when he felt the back of Vector’s throat. His hands scrambled for purchase, finding nothing to anchor himself in the moment. The muscles moved and constricted in a way Theron had never felt. Not even Zolah had managed this sensation, and she was damn good at her job.

Vector hummed in that odd way he used while communicating with killiks, and Theron saw actual, honest to the Force, stars. “I can’t–” he ground his teeth, one hand burying itself in Vector’s thick hair to warn the man that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Vector’s tongue was nothing short of miraculous when the joiner worked his way back down Theron’s cock. Just as the spy thought he might regain some of his dignity, Vector took him in again, one hand reaching up to cup his sack. Theron came with a shout, hips working against Vector’s mouth in quick, desperate thrusts as all semblance of reality shattered. It wasn’t until Theron came back to himself that he realized Vector’s hands on his hips were the only thing keeping him upright.

Sagging against the wall, Theron let out a tired laugh. “Damn, should’ve done that years ago.”

“Yes,” Vector agreed with a charming grin as he stood to full height again. “We should have.” Slipping off his shoes, Vector finished removing his clothes and sat on the bed. Patting it, he smiled. “Would you care to join us?”

Theron dropped his jacket on the floor and tore the shirt over his head. He went to Vector eagerly, wanting to offer the same satisfaction that he’d received. Placing his knees on either side of Vector’s, Theron ground hips against the joiner’s swollen erection. The man made a sound unlike any Theron had heard before as he fisted his hair and pinned the spy in a ravenous kiss. Though sated, Theron enjoyed the sensation of Vector’s arousal, and the staccato breaths in between kisses.

“Theron,” Vector hissed when the spy’s nails raked his shoulders. “We are exceedingly–”

“Say no more,” Theron answered as he pulled back. There was no missing the note of desperation in the other man’s voice, a sound Theron was all too familiar with himself. In all likelihood, it had been just as long since Zolah had visited Vector’s room, and while they were free to sleep with whoever, no one had the same appeal outside of their small trio.

Scrambling to the bedside table, Theron began opening drawers to find the lubricant he knew Vector owned. Theron had accidentally stumbled across a box of goodies some time ago, and knew that several of them wouldn’t work without it. “Top left,” Vector supplied as he settled on the bed to watch Theron with some amusement.

“Got it,” Theron practically cheered before turning to face his lover. He’d expected to find a look of unbridled lust, what had surprised him, was the hint of pride in that welcoming smile. Easing back onto the bed, Theron straddled Vector’s knees as he squeezed a substantial amount of lube into his palm. He considered telling Vector to relax and let him do all the work, but felt suddenly nervous about getting it wrong. Strange, Theron had never gotten the jitters about sex before, unless it involved Fynta, but that had been for completely different reasons.

Careful not to drip the cold liquid on Vector’s stomach, Theron took the joiner in hand and stroked slowly. Vector hummed in pleasure, breathing intentionally even while keeping a tight rein on his control. Theron wondered if Vector was always so hard, or if it was because it had been a while. He knew next to nothing about how the joining process affected his body, only that Zolah commented often about his insatiable need for contact when separated from the hive. It was a struggle to keep his mind from venturing towards what bug sex must be like.

Shaking those thoughts away, Theron became aware of the change in Vector’s breathing. His stomach moved in quick pants, eyes hooded and lips parted. Theron leaned forward to taste those lips again, using it as a distraction to prep himself for what he planned next. Rising onto his knees, Theron kept Vector occupied while he situated their position and slowly lowered himself onto the joiners waiting shaft.

Vector hissed again, a guttural sound that clicked in the back of his throat. Theron watched his lover’s expression as he worked his hips until he sat flush in Vector’s lap. “We–had forgotten–how pleasurable this could be,” Vector began, then groaned when Theron lifted himself again. The ecstasy playing across the joiners face was almost enough to arouse Theron again. It definitely would have in his younger days.

Theron rode Vector at a slow, rhythmic pace. The joiner was a giving man, both in and out of the bedroom. Even when Theron offered him control, Vector chose to let his partner set the speed. The joiner didn’t begin to move until the end, snapping his hips up in short, quick thrusts that were accompanied by baritone growls. When Vector found his release, it wasn’t with the same fanfare as Theron’s, but a long sigh punctuated by quiet moans. When he finally fell back against the headboard, it was with a contented laugh. “That was everything we had imagined.”

“Been fantasizing about me?” Theron asked as he slid off Vector’s lap to find something for them to clean up with.

Vector’s answering grin, such a rare sight from the man, was enough to make Theron laugh outright. “Yeah, okay fine, me too.”

Having secured the appropriate items to tidy up, Theron yawned. He could pick up his clothes and go to his room, but when Vector pulled the cover from beneath him and waved for Theron to join, the spy couldn’t think of a damn reason why he shouldn’t. After all, these cave dwellings got cold in the winter, and Vector looked warm and inviting. He’d gone this far, might as well spend the night.


	4. Bendu & Aubriex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aubriex belongs to Kierra(ao3) kunoichi-ume (tumblr)

**Prompt:**  “Please don’t do this.” (Pen)   
 **Characters:** Bendu Par & Aubriex Sayir   
 **Story/Series:** Generations of War  
 **Word Count:** 566  
 **A/N:**  Bendu is a smuggler and one of Nahir’s (mother of Jorgan’s triplets) brothers. Aubriex is their little cousin who came to live with him when she was orphaned because no one else could take her at the time, but all agreed that he was the last person who should be raising a teenager. 

* * *

 

Bendu stared at his datapad as the monitors beeped. His eyes ached in the dim light, but rubbing them only made it worse. The cursor blinked, taunting Bendu with the finality of his decision. His resolve wavered until Aubriex whimpered in her sleep. A bandage surrounded his little cousin’s head and burn ointment covered the left side of her neck and upper arm. Looking back at the screen, the Cathar sighed and lifted his stylus.

“Benny?” He glanced up, paperwork forgotten with that croaking, little kitten voice.

“Hey there, scamp.” Carefully, Bendu brushed Aubriex’s unruly hair from her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

The young Cathar took a breath, then let out a pained mewl. It was all the confirmation Bendu needed. “I’m going to take care of you, little cuz. Find you someone who can keep you safe.”

Aubriex’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” Bendu looked away, and she dug her claws into his forearm when he tried to move. “You’re sending me away?”

Bendu ground his teeth, unable to meet her eyes. “It’s for the best. I can’t look after you the way you deserve.” He’d been an idiot, thinking that he could raise a teen Cathar. There was a reason that Nahir often teased him about never starting a family of his own. Why she’d been so wary of their little cousin living aboard his ship. Seeing Aubriex in that medcenter bed reminded Bendu that smuggling was no life for a child.

A swell of blood mottled Bendu’s pale fur when Aubriex’s claws dug deeper. “Please don’t do this, Benny.” Tears welled in those big, blue eyes. “I’ll do better. I promise. I won’t get hurt again, and no more complaining about chores. I swear. Just please–”

The beeping of Aubriex’s heart monitor picked up speed as she gasped through choked sobs. Bendu felt like he’d be ill. Carefully, the Cathar pressed on her knuckles to extract her claws. The pain barely registered above the one in his chest. Bendu didn’t want to send Aubry away anymore than she wanted to go, but what right did he have to screw up her life? How could she settle with a nice male if he got her killed before she was old enough to have her first crush?

Bendu sank into his chair and picked up the datapad, speechless in the wake of her misery. The blinking line demanded his signature. Just a few letters scribbled on the screen, and Aubriex could have the life she deserved. Her quiet weeping tore at his heart, making Bendu wish that he’d signed it an hour ago when the papers came through instead of putting it off until he had to look her in the eyes.

“I can’t do this,” Bendu snarled. The datapad snapped between his fingers, sparking in protest. Looking back at his little cousin, Bendu sank to his knees by her bed. His massive size put him even with Aubriex. “You’re my blood, just–” he cut off, words failing when her eyes lit and small arms constricted around his neck.

“Thank you, Benny.” Aubriex kissed Bendu’s cheeks, his nose, anywhere she could reach from the awkward angle she leaned over him. “I promise that you won’t regret. I’ll do whatever you ask. Consider me your personal slave.”

Bendu offered a tight laugh, then leaned back to ruffle her wild locks. “You already were, kid.”


	5. Fynta/Theron (Frenemies)

**Prompt:** Tied Together (illness)  
 **Characters:** Fynta Wolfe/Theron Shan  
 **Story/Series:** The Art of Being Invisible  
 **Word Count:** 635  
 **A/N:**  Back from Fynta’s Epoch days when she and Theron worked together 

* * *

 

_Theron’s head pounded, his joints hurt, and someone kept shouting for him to wake up. All in all, this mission was hell. Warmth pressed against his back. “Damn it, Theron.”  A woman’s voice broke through the haze briefly. “Wake the fuck up.”_

_Grunting in an indignation that Theron didn’t fully understand, he tried to curse at whoever squirmed behind him. He was almost certain that words came out, and hoped they’d been in the right order. Damn, he didn’t feel well. Something solid struck his knees, and Theron was vaguely aware of his own annoyance that his pain receptors were still working at 100% while the rest of him struggled to maintain consciousness._

_“Hey,” the woman snapped. “You really think beating him to death will get the intel you want?”_ You tell ‘em _, Theron thought before she slammed into him from behind. It didn’t endear the woman to him. She laughed, a strange sound, but familiar. It gave Theron something to grasp onto._

_“You hit like a baby–” The woman’s words cut off again, this time when her head smacked into the back of Theron’s. His stomach heaved, then darkness took him._

Theron blinked, squinting up at the white ceiling and searing light. Someone cursed, and Theron turned with aching slowness to see Sen Dewu pass a credit stick to Fynta. She grinned and pocketed the funds before meeting Theron’s bleary gaze. “Told you that he’d come around before dinner.”

The Chiss agent shoved to his feet. “It still counts if I knock him out again, right?”

“Nope, those eyes are open, that means I win.” Fynta’s grin widened. “Besides, he’s taken enough abuse.”

Dewu sighed. “Fine.” He patted Theron’s shoulder. “Glad to have you back. Try taking a few days off next time you’re under the weather so that I don’t have to send her in to pull your rank ass out.”

Theron squinted after the Chiss as he sauntered through the doorway, then back at Fynta for an explanation. She had a swollen lip, two black eyes, and a nasty looking bruise that vanished beneath the collar of her plain, black shirt. Whatever it was, Theron was sure that he’d never hear the end of it.

“What happened?” Theron only had flashes of getting captured, then everything turned hazy.

“You picked up a bug during the mission,” Fynta explained with a yawn. “You are stupidly heavy, did you know that?”

When Theron lifted a hand, his muscles protested. “Did you hit me?”

“Not this time,” Fynta answered with a cheeky smirk. “That was the bastard you insulted during a fever, or hallucination, or whatever. Then, they decided to see what information they could pull out of us when your implants fritzed.” She sighed and crossed equally discolored arms over her stomach as she sank back into the chair. “So, we ended up in chains and beaten.”

“So, just another day on the job,” Theron commented with a wince. Those were Fynta’s taunts from his dream, she’d taken a beating to protect him. Theron peeked behind his hands, the nodded towards Fynta’s arms. “Thanks.”

Fynta glanced down, then sat straight and tucked her arms at her sides. “It’s what we do, right?”

It was. Every time one fell in the line of duty, the other rushed to pick them up. He and Fynta were tied together, not just in the sense that they so often found themselves, not even when they fell into bed together, but by something undefinable. Only one truth mattered. If anyone in the galaxy could be trusted to have Theron’s back, it was the woman he despised the most. Theron hoped that Fynta felt the same, that she knew he’d always be there to bail her out too. Even if they bickered the whole way home.


	6. Sithy Bunch: Twins vs Ma'at/Tully & Andronikos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tully and Zaria belong to Kierra(ao3) kunoichi-ume (tumblr)

****

**Prompt:**  “This would not happen if I had a penis!” ~~(Writing)~~    
**Characters:**  Twins vs Tully/Ma’at & Andronikos  
**Story/Series:**  Sithy Bunch   
**Word Count:**  701

* * *

 

Andronikos Ravel feared nothing. He’d already been mutinied against, held hostage by his own mind, and traveled with crazy Sith to track down ghosts and ever crazier Sith. There wasn’t much more that life could throw at him than the Techtmar bunch hadn’t already.

As Andronikos followed the smooth curve of palace walls, the sound of breaking glass grabbed his attention. “This wouldn’t happen if I had a penis!” Lifting a brow, he ventured closer to the wing where one of the twins seemed to be throwing the fit to end all fits.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ma’at shot back, and Andronikos paused before turning the corner to listen. This conversation had the potential to offer him a good laugh. Later, and at a safe distance.

“You’re just mad because I’m an empowered girl.” It sounded like Bridae, but Andronikos often got them confused. “I bet Ari and Nuada wouldn’t be interrogated like this,” she added with a sullen pout.

“I’ve raised a maniac.” Ma'at’s tone sounded incredulous, but Andronikos knew it for the ploy it was. Apparently, so did Bridae, who refused to rise to the bait. Zaria had yet to chime in either, and he wondered if she was simply smarter, or had escaped. There was no doubt that she had been involved. Where one was, the other always followed.

With a snarl that would have impressed a Wookiee, Ma’at bit off each word. “When I find your dealer, I’m going to use his spine for a lamp post.”

Andronikos flattened himself against the wall and hoped the empress couldn’t sense him from where he cowered. Ma’at was a sweet, plump woman who barely reached his shoulder. She had a bright smile and laughed easily. She also had the temper of a Sith, and he knew better than most the kind of hell that little woman could rain down when someone pissed her off.

“Bridae,” Tuathal sighed. Andronikos pictured the former Wrath bridging the tips of his fingers over his nose while trying to reason with one of the twins. Those girls had all of Ma’at’s temper with none of her restraint. Thank whatever deity decided the fate of the galaxy that they’d been born Force-nulls. “You blew a hole in the side of the rooftop gardens. People could have been hurt.”

“I waited until it was empty,” the girl shot back in all her teenaged fury. “I’m not an idiot. 

Andronikos risked peeking around the corner to see the rulers of Zakuul standing in the hall while barrigading their daughter inside her room. He should probably carry on with his business, but curiosity had always been one of Andronikos’s worst vices. He grinned when Ma’at started forward, only to be pulled back by her husband. Tully knew what Andronikos did, that Bridae didn’t stand a chance if her mother got a hold of her.

“I’ll ask one more time,” the empress growled while she pointed into the room. “Where did you get the detonite?”

_Oh shit._  Andronikos whipped around the corner to plant his back against the wall again. It had to be a coincidence that Bridae blew a hole in something just a few days after he’d taught the girls proper explosives handling…and that he was missing a few strips of the detcord.  _Coincidence my ass._

Andronikos turned on his heel and beat a hasty retreat. He needed to clear out his stock before someone thought to come looking for him. Lying to a Sith wasn’t a great idea, but given the mood Ma’at was in, his options were to lie out his ass, or start writing his will. 

Andronikos carried on at a brisk walk, intent on not drawing attention to himself. However, when the door slammed harder than was physically possible, he started running. “You’re staying in this room until I have an answer,” Ma’at roared.

The girl shrieked before something crashed into the wall. Andronikos kicked it into high gear. He’d dump the det, then find a reason to get off the planet for the foreseeable future. Andronikos Revel feared nothing, but he had a healthy respect for the retribution of his crazy Sith. Especially where her children were concerned.


	7. Lua/Felix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sith Inquisitor/Felix Iresso

**Prompt:** “Relax. I’m trying to help.” (Sunlight)  ****  
 **Characters:** Lua Hassir/Felix Iresso  
 **Story/Series:** It Could Happen (compilation of Cross-class ships)  
 **Word Count:** 417 

* * *

“Shhh,” Lua crooned as she straddled Felix’s thighs. His back arched in a desperate attempt to throw her while jerking his head from side to side. Lua tightened her hold on the Force to maintain contact. “Relax, my love,“ she breathed. "I’m trying to help.”

Felix cried out, eyelids tight against the nightmare this session had conjured. Lua hated this part of his treatment. She’d fought it for as long as she could when Felix came to her with the idea. He wanted the nightmares to stop, and Lua had foolishly revealed how she’d purged her own ghosts. Since then, Felix was convinced that she could delve into his mind and pluck out those terrible days of imprisonment and torture.

Reaching out with the Force, Lua raised the blinds to their secluded cabin. She’d had it constructed to be a safe haven. A place where Felix’s haggard pleas wouldn’t disturb the other members of the Alliance. “Feel the sunlight,” Lua whispered in as soothing a voice as she could manage while wrestling a man larger than herself. “Bask in its warmth and let it calm you.”

Felix obeyed with an outstretched hand. Tormented eyes snapped open, yet saw nothing. Lua hated that most of all. She adored his eyes, the deep color so full of kindness. The moment Felix’s fingers touched the sunbeam, his muscles relaxed. Lua allowed herself a steadying breath before releasing his wrists. She needed a break, but there was still so much left to do. So many years to sift through before Felix could be truly free.

“Alright,” Lua said in a hushed tone. She ran her fingers through his short curls, smiling when his chest expanded in a deep breath. “That’s right. Just a little longer.”

Moving to sit further up Felix’s body, Lua placed her fingers against his temples and closed her eyes. She’d get this right, eventually. If Lua could only master her own emotions while inside his mind, then perhaps Felix wouldn’t lash out. Then again, she was Sith, and emotions were her fuel.

Darkness surrounded Lua again as she sank into Felix’s memories. If he hadn’t given up, neither would she. Felix believed in her, trusted her to protect him while rooting out the horrors that had been his life for so long. So long as Lua kept herself separate from the images that flashed before her mind’s eye, she could save them both from insanity. Or, they would spiral into madness. Either way, they would be together.

 

 


	8. Rasiel/Nuada

**Prompt:** “If I could have prevented this moment, I would have.” (Overwhelm) ****  
 **Characters:** Rasiel Volezz/Nuada Techtmar  
 **Story/Series:** Sithy Bunch  
 **Word Count:** **627**

* * *

Rasiel slammed her fist into the taxi with enough force to leave a dent. Nuada leaned through the window to haggle with the driver, and probably distract him from her tantrum. Even though Rasiel knew it was a bad idea, she’d let Nauda convince her to contact her family. She’d have been perfectly happy pretending that the people who’d used her and Dina to further their own goals didn’t exist. Nuada couldn’t fathom that type of venom, though. He’d been protected, cherished, his entire life. By Sith, at that.

“Shall we, love?” Nuada held his hand out to the open door.

Sighing, Rasiel slid across the seat and waited for Nuada to join her. When the taxi lifted from the landing pad, Nuada took her hands into his. “Are you ready to go home?” She nodded, watching through the window to avoid his gaze.

“Damn it, Ras. I’m sorry.” Nuada placed a kiss on her shoulder before lowering his voice. “If I could have prevented this, I would have. Next time, I’ll listen to you. I didn’t think they’d react like…”  His words trailed off, guilt plainly visible in those brilliant, blue eyes. “I’ll never allow anyone speak that way to you again.”

They’d traveled back to Coruscant to let Rasiel’s parents know that she and Dina were still alive, that they’d found a place on Zakuul amongst the royal family. Nuada had seen the rift between himself and his own father healed, and swore it could be repeated. Unbeknownst to Rasiel, he’d also hoped to earn permission to marry her. It was a nice fantasy that she’d warned would never play out the way he saw it. Nuada was nothing if not an optimist.

Naturally, Rasiel’s father had acted like the ass he’d always been, and her mother had been an incoherent mess. They’d barely stepped foot on inside before the shouting started. After throwing them out, Rasiel heard her father requesting someone at the Senate, claiming that he’d spotted two wanted criminals attempting to gain entrance into his home.

Though Rasiel’s family life had never been perfect, the knowledge that she’d been disowned and proclaimed a traitor by her father suddenly overwhelmed her. Tears streamed down Rasiel’s face moments before a sob tore from her lips. “I’m sorry,” she gasped when Nuada pulled her into his arms.

“It’s alright, Ras,” Nuada whispered against her hair. “I’ve got you.”

Rasiel clung to the only future she had left, and didn’t fight when Nuada offered to carry her to their ship. She gave up her stoic warrior persona this once, wanting the comfort of strong arms surrounding her. If that meant being coddled by the son of two of the greatest Sith the Empire had ever produced, then so be it.

Nuada set Rasiel on the bed before excusing himself for pre-flight checks. In his absence, she fumed about being so weak, for allowing two people who meant so little to drive her to such insanity. Mostly, Rasiel ached to go home.

With a suddenness that startled her, Rasiel realized that Coruscant no longer qualified. She missed the room she and Nuada shared in the palace, and the chaos of his massive family crammed into their summer home on Dromund Kaas. A weight lifted from her shoulders at the thought of spending the rest of her life wrapped in the love of a Sith family. The irony of it made her laugh.

By the time Nuada returned, Rasiel had made up her mind. She was going to marry him, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do to stop her. “Feeling better,” Nuada asked, pausing at the door to gauge her change in mood.

Rasiel smiled and wiped her eyes. “I’m perfect now. Let’s go home."


	9. Hirani/Koth

**Prompt:** “That is almost the exact opposite of what I meant” (Running)   
 **Characters:** Hira’niafan/Koth Vortena  
 **Story/Series:** Heart on a Trigger  
 **Word Count:**  680 

* * *

Koth paced outside the locked door to his room. Normally, he’d retreat to the cantina to throw back a couple with Fynta or whoever happened to be around. He’d also be wearing more than his shorts. Stopping to glare at the barrier between him and a warm bed, Koth pounded a fist against the unyielding metal. It popped open a fraction to reveal the green eyed demon herself.

“I’m trying to sleep, go away.” Hirani glared from within, her lush curves blocking the narrow opening.

Koth held his hands out. “Where do you expect me to go looking like this?”

Hirani sneered, an impressive expression on her otherwise cute features. “What do I care?” She flipped one lekku over her shoulder in a huff. “Go find some trollop to warm your bed if I’m so easy to replace.”

Without giving Koth a chance to respond, the door slammed shut. He punched the unforgiving metal. “That’s almost the exact opposite of what I meant!”

“Almost,” Hirani’s muffled shout replied through the wall. Koth heaved an exasperated growl and shook out his hand.

“So, what did you mean?”

Koth could have done without the amusement lacing Fynta’s voice. Turning with all the dignity he could muster, Koth shrugged. “I meant that I chose to stay with her because I love her.” He paused to consider that, then nodded. “Yeah, pretty sure that’s it.”

The commander’s smirk grew as her eyes took in his lack of dress. “And what you said?”

Sighing, Koth rubbed the back of his neck. “Something like, I could be anywhere else?” He winced when Fynta released a low whistle. “Yeah, it sounded better in my head. So, what brings you to these parts?”

“Got word of a possible domestic incident in this sector and told the MPs that I’d handle it.” Laughter danced in Fynta’s dark blue eyes. Koth was never going to hear the end of this. “They frown on discharging blasters indoors.”

Giving up on his pride, Koth motioned toward the door. “Mind helping me get back in?”

Fynta shook her head, hands held aloft. “Hirani hates me more than anyone on this base. Best I could do would be to slice in, and that won’t win you any points back.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Koth groused, rubbing at his arms. “It’s starting to get cold out here, if you know what I mean.” He’d had other plans for this evening, and wondered if Hirani might have taken his slip better had they not been in the process of making them a reality.

Laughing, Fynta pushed off the wall and sauntered to the keypad. Her hands hovered, blue eyes sliding back to pin Koth with more humor than he appreciated. “You’re sure?” He answered with a droll glare. Fynta shook her head and keyed in the override. The latch released, and the commander stepped back. “If I were you, I’d start running.”

Koth offered his best smile. “Nah, Hirani wouldn’t really hurt me.”  He sidled up to the door and barely ducked in time to miss the boot she hurled at his head.

Pressing his back against the wall, Koth couldn’t help himself. “Mind throwing out the other one, too?” It thumped against the far wall next to where Fynta stood with a raised brow. Koth waved a hand. “Give her time, pretty soon I’ll have a full set of clothes.”

Something that looked a lot like Koth’s favorite caf mug shattered against the door frame, followed by mismatched socks, a pair of pants with holes in the knees, and the shirt Koth hated most. Sighing, he scooped up the clothes. “Maybe I’ll sleep in the barracks tonight.”

Fynta laughed outright. “Get dressed Vortena, sounds like you could use a drink.”

Koth hopped on one foot as he tugged the pants on. “Hope you’re buying, because I doubt she’ll throw out my wallet.” As soon as the words left his lips, the object in question skittered across the floor. Picking it up, Koth shook it, then sighed. “Damn, she even took my lucky Frogdog trading card.”


	10. Trev/Kira (Jurr/Jorgan)

****

**Prompt:** “What about a compromise? I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out that they were friendly, I’ll apologize.” (Allergies)  ****  
 **Characters:** Trev Brawlin/Kira Carsen & Jurr Jiin/Aric Jorgan  
 **Story/Series:** Space Punks  
 **Word Count:**  609

* * *

Trev sneezed again, making his head throb more. “What about a compromise,” he sniffled, pinning Kira with a dangerous glare. “I’ll kill him now, and if it turns out that I was wrong, I’ll apologize.”

“You can’t kill my husband, Trev,” Jurr replied with an annoyed huff while Kira waved her hands to emphasize the logic of that claim.

“Pretty sure I can.” Trev checked his belt, then patted his lightsaber. “Yep.”

Jurr and her fluffy new husband were visiting during a week long R&R stint on Coruscant. He and Kira had opened their apartment to them couple for Jurr’s peace of mind. She knew this place, and would be able to relax more than at a hotel.

Trev had chosen to overlook the fact that he and Jorgan had never gotten along before. Neither of the males thought the other was good enough for Jurr. Before now, Trev had always found the Cathar’s irritation with him amusing, maybe mildly annoying when he made it difficult to contact Jurr. However, after two days of dealing with the shedding and Trev’s apparent allergy to the species…he sneezed again. “Move, I’ve got a Cathar to skin.”

Kira and Jurr stepped into Trev’s path, and he growled in irritation. There had to be a way to stop this Force-be-damned sniffling. Not to mention runny eyes, itchy ears, and scratchy throat. Trev snorted derisively, and Kira wanted a dog, what kind of fool did she take him for. If Trev couldn’t even tolerate his own sister’s husband, a pet was out of the question.

“If you two don’t get out of my way,” Trev threatened in a growl that would have been more intimidating if it wasn’t interrupted by another sneeze. He sighed and let the threat die when Kira burst out laughing.

Throwing his hands up, Trev stomped away. “Fine, but I don’t want to hear it when this,” he gestured vaguely at his face, “keeps you up all night. Or sends me to the medcenter. Damn Jurr, couldn’t you have found a man that doesn’t leave a trail of fur behind?”

Trev ignored the rolled eyes at his back and flopped into his favorite chair. The smell of musty Cathar wafted from the cushion and sent Trev into a sneezing fit that felt like it would rupture his sinuses. Digging between the cushion, he pulled out a plain, black SpecForce shirt. Trev’s indignant snort morphed into a hacking cough.

Laughter distracted Trev from his fit, and he glanced up through watery eyes to find none other that Aric Jorgan smirking from across the room. “You,” Trev snarled, launching from his seat. The Cathar’s smug grin vanished when he struck the wall on the far side of the sitting area. Trev started forward, shaking the garment obviously placed there to increase his misery. “You think this is cute?”

Before the Jedi could draw his weapon, the room spun, and Trev landed in a heap next to the sofa. He shook his head, vision clearing enough to see Kira with one hand outstretched while Jurr rushed to her husband’s aid. “Both of you are acting like younglings,” Kira snapped, lowering her arm once assured that he wasn’t a threat any longer.

Trev muttered something that was best if his fiery lover didn’t hear and winced when he sat up. Kira’s eyes narrowed in warning, but Trev didn’t care. All the pain in the world was worth the groan that echoed from behind Jurr’s hunched form. Offering a tired grin, Trev couldn’t help himself. “Take that, fluffy.” Then, he sniffed indignantly, coughed, sneezed, and decided it was time to visit the medcenter.


	11. Lyesh/Quinn

****

**Prompt:** “I think we were meant to be, but we did it wrong.” (Water)   
 **Characters:** Lyesh Hassir/Malavai Quinn  
 **Story/Series:** Generations of War  
 **Word Count:** 712  
 **A/N:** Lyesh is an old enough character to have been created before the companion conversation lock. So, she and Quinn were actually married before the Quinncident, which is how I’ve already written her even though that doesn’t appear to be possible in game anymore. 

* * *

Lyesh ran her fingers through the still waters of her garden fountain. Even in her private sanctuary, the Sith couldn’t avoid the intimacy of her surroundings. Malavai had proposed in this spot with a clever half smirk that always drove her mad.

It had been seven months since her husband’s betrayal, seven, long months since she’d banished him from her bed while she sorted through all of her options. Killing Malavai had never been one of them. He was the father of her first born, a fact that she’d planned to tell him that night once they were done with the transponder station.

Watching what little color remained fade from Malavai’s face when she threw the pregnancy in his face had given Lyesh immense joy. As had the indignation there when Pierce greeted him in the hallway outside of her that night. Lyesh had intended to deport Malavai back to his personal hell on Balmorra, but the knowledge that he’d displeased a Sith would ruin him completely. So, he’d remained, neither speaking to the other unless necessary; neither making eye contact.

A sharp thump drew Lyesh’s thought away from the morbose and back to her future. The child within, a daughter, made her presence known with more ferocity every day. Those gentle flutters only noticeable during meditation had morphed into sharp spikes of pain when a foot jammed into her ribs. Lyesh’s normally flat stomach had long since taken on a rounded appearance. She’d grudgingly given up her revealing, leather armor for something more modest. That should finally please Malavai, he’d never approved of her battle attire, anyway.

Though she didn’t like to admit it, Lyesh missed her husband’s company. His intelligence never ceased to astound her, nor did the dutiful way he anticipated her every need. Even now, while they barely spoke, he made her tea and offered quiet comfort when she couldn’t rest. It was always under the guise of filing reports or checking navigational headings, but Lyesh saw through his ploys. They were the same tactics he’d used long ago, when he’d first tested the waters of returning her affections.

“I think we were meant to be,” Lyesh whispered to their daughter, rubbing a hand over the distended fabric as she settled by the pool. “But, we did it wrong.” She should have destroyed Baras before letting her emotions win out. Malavai had clearly been a pawn, in retrospect, but Lyesh was too drunk on her own power to see it. She’d been invincible, young; stupid.

There were times when Lyesh could hear Malavai’s subtle warnings that she should be more vigilant about who she trusted. Those moments when his anguish had been so strong that it woke her from sleep. Lyesh had foolishly rolled back into his arms, believing it to be nothing more than the panicked dreams of an old soldier. Now that she knew where the road led, all the signs had been obvious.

Their child turned again, growing agitated with Lyesh’s morose mood. She would be Force-sensitive, there was no doubt about it. Likely with as foul a temper as her mother. It would be wrong to keep her from Malavai–Lyesh didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on her stomach, the softening of his features. She hadn’t confirmed that the child was his, yet, leaving that sliver of doubt to fester until–she didn’t know why. Pierce knew, of course, but enjoyed tormenting the stuffy officer too much to take pity on the man.

With the birth rapidly approaching, Lyesh wondered when it would be prudent to let the ruse drop. Doing so would mean accepting Malavai again. She hadn’t dissolved their marriage, though she’d meant to plenty of times. Somehow, something more important always took precedent. Lyesh no longer took joy in Malavai’s suffering, and she’d grown bored of Pierce’s affections months ago. Perhaps, it was finally time. After all, who better to stand at her side when she finally destroyed Baras than the bastard’s former pawn? Yes, she’ll do it once he returned with her latest craving.

Rubbing a hand over her stomach, Lyesh allowed herself an evil smirk. “Soon, little one.” Once her child was born, Lyesh would rain hell on Bara’s cozy nest of vipers, and Malavai would finally be free.


	12. Fynta, Noara, & Cormac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noara belongs to Kierra(ao3) kunoichi-ume (tumblr)

****

**Prompt:** “How many miles/kilometers are we running?!” (Frost)   
 **Characters:** Fynta Wolfe, Balic Cormac, and Noara Starspark   
 **Story/Series:** Jedi Sitters  
 **Word Count:** 733

“How many klicks are we running?” Cormac panted, bent double with hands on his knees. Fynta tried not to find too much enjoyment at the pallor of the big man’s face.

Jogging back, Fynta paused at Balic’s side. “You want to pass your verd’goten or not?” Glancing over her shoulder, Fynta watched Noara vanish through the foliage before turning back to her best friend. “Or, going to let the baby Jedi make a liar out of you?”

Cormac snorted, wiped his mouth, and straightened to full height to stare after their companion. “You sure she isn’t using the Force? I don’t remember her being that fast before.” There had been a lot of smack talk between the two when they began. A lot of which Noara was living up to.

Laughing, Fynta backhanded Cormac’s gut hard enough to drive a grunt from him even through his armor. “Stop whining. You chose Alderaan.” No doubt the man assumed having trained in these mountains would give him an advantage. While Fynta despised the cold, she was perfectly happy in her environmentally controlled beskar. The frost still clung to trees at this altitude, but it did little to hamper their progress.

“What do you have planned for the end of this hell run, anyway?” Cormac asked, starting up at a jog and forcing Fynta to catch up. Truthfully, she’d taken it easy on them for this verd’goten. Fynta had never heard of an adult performing one. After she and Jorgan unofficially claimed Noara as their daughter, and with her relationship with Torian growing serious, Fynta had brought it up in jest. Noara latched onto the idea of becoming fully Mandalorian with more enthusiasm than expected. Fynta assumed it had more to do with Torian, than anything else.

With each passing day, Noara left more of her Jedi teachings behind. Fynta wasn’t sure if the woman was losing herself in a new culture or finding who she was meant to be all along. In the end, it wasn’t Fynta’s choice.

Naturally, once Cormac had caught wind of what Noara planned to do, he’d wanted in. The big man whined about never getting his chance to be adopted officially until Fynta relented. She’d chosen a brutal run up one of the less inhabited mountain ranges that led a river path that ended in rapids. She and Jorgan had scouted the route a few days back, on speeder bikes, of course. The Cathar had no desire to take part in Fynta’s makeshift obstacle course.

Once at the ravine, Fynta would test her friends’ adaptability. Then, a night spent in the elements, hunting for dinner and finding shelter, and back home by nightfall for showers and proper food. With Cormac’s training, the rest would be a breeze. He just had to survive the climb.

“You do realize,” Cormac puffed. “That a body like mine is built for picking up heavy things, right?” More huffing as he trudged along, followed by a cough. “This running is shit.”

“Osik,” Fynta corrected with a wink. “You’re not allowed to swear in Basic on your verd’goten. I’m pretty sure that’s a rule.”

Cormac growled, then fell silent to focus on keeping the contents of his stomach where they belonged. Once they crested the ridge, Noara met her comrades with a wide grin. “What took so long?”

“I could probably still throw you over the edge,” Cormac snipped playfully. “I’ve got that much left in me.”

Fynta looked to where the water frothed below, then back at her two wards. “You’d have to go get her, I could make it a last minute addition to your test, if you want.” Cormac stuck his tongue out, and Fynta laughed before gesturing to open air. “Next task, find a way across.”

Cormac and Noara inched closer to judge how far the drop was, and fell into a discussion of how many bones they’d break versus immediate death. Fynta settled on a bolder with her back to a tree and yawned. “Keep an eye on that sun, because we aren’t stopping until the designated coordinates.” Stretching her arms behind her head, she smirked. “Regardless of how much light is left.”

When Cormac turned with narrowed eyes, Fynta’s grin widened. “Just a few more steps away from being an adult, you two.” She made a show of getting comfortable before adding in a lower tone. “About damn time, too.”


	13. Verin/Keshal (Mandalorians)

****

**Prompt:** “If you’ll excuse me, I need to create a hangover to nurse”  ~~(Duality)~~  
 **Characters:** Verin Ejnar/Keshal Vakk  
 **Story/Series:** Heart on a Trigger  
 **Word Count:** 646  
 **A/N:** Back before these two decided to give it a go **.** Mando’a at the end.

* * *

Verin noted the chair next to him moving in an abstract way. It wasn’t until the woman who occupied it spoke that he realized why the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “Fancy meeting you here, beroya,” Keshal snarked as she placed a credit chip on the counter. “Figures I’d find you drowning in your cups.”

Verin hated the snide tone Keshal used whenever she called him  _bounty hunter_. For whatever reason, the native born of Clan Cadera felt the need to rub it in that he didn’t belong there. That for the last two decades Verin had been nothing more than a nameless scent hound. It didn’t matter that he’d given up his identity to ensure Fynta had a halfway decent life, or that he’d met, and lost, his wife under that moniker.

“What do you want?” Verin had no patience for the woman, not this night.

Keshal turned in her seat to pin Verin with dark eyes. “You dare take that tone with me?”

Sighing, Verin signaled for another drink when his ran dry. “I don’t have time for you today.” He nodded his thanks to the barkeeps before slipping off the stool. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to create a hangover to nurse.” Staggering, Verin headed for the other end of the bar and banged his knee on the stool before managing to get into it.

It wasn’t long before that malevolent presence plagued Verin again. He huffed in annoyance and growled through clenched teeth. “Keshal, I’m not in the mood for your osik tonight.”

“Clearly.” Keshal elbowed the man to Verin’s left out of his seat before taking it for herself. There was almost a note of concern in her voice when she spoke again. “You’ve always been a besom, but this is excessive even for you.”

Verin laughed despite himself, though it sounded more like a drunken akk hound with a bone caught in its throat. Verin felt a little like one too. Keshal prodded further. “It’s today, isn’t it?”

When Verin slid bleary eyes towards the woman, he found Keshal staring into her shot glass. “Mine was two months ago.”  She opened her mouth, closed it, then shook her head and tossed the liquor down her throat. “It’s worse when children are involved. Tranx didn’t even mourn his father this year; he was too young when it happened.”

“I didn’t realize,” Verin responded in earnest, he’d never stopped to consider where Tranx’s father was. Cinlat had died on Yavin three years ago to the day, and Fynta had been missing two. It was hard enough getting himself through by, he couldn’t imagine caring for a child too. “How old was he?”

“Five,” Keshal responded, lifting her hand for two more of what she’d finished. “We carry on in their honor, right?” The woman who had made Verin’s life hell in Clan Cadera paused before adding with a wave at the empty glasses he’d left down the bar. “Think your woman would approve of this?”

Verin snorted, but couldn’t bring himself to answer. Cinlat hated alcohol, or anything that dulled the senses. Her body had been a temple, but clean living hadn’t saved her in the swamp. His wife bled out like anyone else. When Keshal’s drinks arrived, she slid one to him. “Last hit, verd. Then, we find a new way to work off this pain.”

Verin’s indignant response stalled when Keshal lifted her glass in a toast. “Bah aay'han,” she stated, waiting for Verin to join her. He should have told the woman where to shove her coping mechanisms, but there was a sincerity in her tone that reminded him of Fynta.

Clinking his glass to hers, Verin answered in kind. “Ni partayli, gar darasuum.” He could use the distraction, after all. So long as Keshal didn’t shoot him in the ass again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a Translations:
> 
> beroya: bounty hunter   
> besom: ill-mannered lout   
> verd: soldier   
> Bah aay'han: to remembering and celebrating   
> ni partayli, gar darasuum: I remember you, so you are eternal.


	14. Balic & Tanno (Boom Brothers) with Fynta/Jorgan

****

**Prompt:** “You make a sound and it’s game over.” (Misery)   
 **Characters:** Balic Cormac & Tanno Vik (Fynta/Jorgan)   
 **Story/Series:** Family Is More Than Blood  
 **Word Count:** 866    
 **A/N:** NSFW(ish) Suggestive Material is more apt.

* * *

“Your ass is too big,” Vik groused as he shoved Cormac with his shoulder.

“Hey, Elara is the only one who gets to comment on my ass.” Cormac shoved back, causing Vik to curse when he dropped the wires. “It was your idea to bring me along.”

Vik grunted. “Needed someone to wound in case we got caught, now shut up, I’m almost done.”

Cormac leaned forward, ignoring the Weequay’s grumbles, to watch. Together, they worked through the Thunderclap’s electrical system until finally reaching their goal. This was by far the riskiest prank they’d ever pulled.

Cormac’s heart was finally starting to take on a normal beat again when the airlock hissed. Both men flattened themselves against the floor in the crawl space between the commanders’ room and the outer hull. Cormac held his breath, then said a silent prayer when Fynta’s laughter echoed from the main room. “Probably just forgot something,” he whispered to Vik, who glared in warning.

Any hope Cormac had of escape shriveled when the door beneath them opened. “I’ve waited long enough,” Jorgan growled a tone unlike any Cormac had heard before. There was no doubt what the Cathar meant when Fynta hummed in pleasure.

Abject horror flooded Cormac’s system at the knowledge of what was about to take place beneath his and Vik’s hiding spot. While the ceiling was solid metal, there were gaps for light fixtures and outlets. He shoved at Vik, who grinned like an idiot while peeking through one such viewport. A thump drew Cormac’s attention, and before he could catch himself, his gaze drifted to where they’d removed the light casing to find Jorgan holding Fynta’s hands above her head.

“Someone’s needy, today,” the major laughed. Cormac couldn’t see what she did from his angle, but it dragged a sound somewhere between a growl and groan out of Jorgan.

Cormac squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shuffle back. A large hand snagged the collar of his shirt, then tweaked his ear before Cormac could lash out. When his eyes opened, Vik was nearly nose to nose with Cormac. “You make a sound, and it’s game over,” the Weequay drew a finger across his neck to emphasize the point. While Cormac had found himself in a lot of compromising positions over the years, nothing came close to the misery of what Jorgan would do to them if he ever found out. Nodding, Cormac hunkered down and tried to ignore the moans, growls, and–whatever the hell that sound was, filling the commanders’ room.

Tweaking Fynta’s lighting controls had seemed like a fun idea two hours ago. The image of her frustration whenever they did the opposite of what she wanted, plus the added hilarity of tying the controls into a remote that he and Vik controlled had set Cormac laughing for half an hour. His current situation, however, caused the soldier to reconsider every decision that had led up to this moment.

Vik let out a ‘heh’, which piqued Cormac’s curiosity. He was going to the void, but there was a note of respect in that sound that made Cormac inch forward. Putting his head next to Vik’s, Cormac peered through the hole left when by the main light fixture. Thankfully, both commanders were still mostly clothed. Jorgan had Fynta in a tight grip against the mattress while she laughed and tried to break his hold. It was both creepy, and a little adorable, to see the grumpy Cathar so unguarded. Then, it veered back into awkward when Jorgan rotated his hips in a slow circle that wrung a curse from Fynta. “I think we need to shed some of this clothing, riduur.”

“Now, who’s being needy?” Jorgan chuckled and lowered himself to…nuzzle Fynta’s neck? Cormac wanted to look away, but it was such an odd sight that he couldn’t.

Smiling, Fynta’s chin lifted to give her husband better access, then furrowed her brows at the ceiling. “Aric?” He hummed in a deep note that Cormac also, had never heard before. He’d always expected that there was a softer side to the Cathar, but hadn’t planned on ever seeing it. Definitely not like this. “Did we put in for repairs on the ship?”

“Shit, time to go.” Vik scooted back too fast and knocked his head on a rafter. Jorgan cursed and rolled off the bed. Cormac didn’t see Fynta’s reaction as he hightailed it after the Weequay. True to his word, Vik made no efforts to held as Cormac scrambled through the mess of wires in a desperate bid to escape the ship before either of the highly trained commanding officers could reach him.

The moment Cormac’s feet hit the floor in the cargo hold, he bolted across the hallway and down the loading ramp. At least Vik hadn’t slammed the airlock in his face, this time. Cormac expected to hear curses, or the discharge of a blaster, at his back, and worried more when none came. In all the fear and chaos of what he’d just witnessed, Cormac still smiled at the knowledge that his best friend had a good sex life with her husband. One he hoped to never be privy to again. 


	15. Kadu/Jurr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jurr belongs to Kierra(ao3) kunoichi-ume (tumblr)

**Prompt:** awake without them (Anticipation) ~~~~  
 **Characters:** Kadu Jadon/Jurr Jiin  
 **Story/Series:** Jedi Sitters  
 **Word Count:** 774  
 **A/N:**  Artwork by the fantastic [@dingoat](https://tmblr.co/mKtzLBGzw8OkVG93TkrzNdA) on Tumblr.

* * *

Another hour passed, and Kadu’s door remained shut. He’d left Jurr in her room after an unplanned kiss and a lot of unanswered questions. Maybe he should have stayed, but Kadu’s mind had stalled when Jurr’s lips touched his. The offered to put in for a transfer had sent Jurr into an all-out panic attack. One that only subsided when Kadu swore that he’d never leave without her permission. As the minutes ticked by and Jurr didn’t show, he began to fear that she’d changed her mind. Maybe Jurr had realized that this could never work.

Sighing, Kadu touched his lips to call on the memory of what it felt like to have Jurr’s pressed against them. He shouldn’t have allowed it. As her guardian, Kadu should be above such manners of corruption. He was a Jedi Master, strong enough to bend the strongest minds in their government. Yet, he couldn’t manage to reign in his own.

_Give her time_ , a voice whispered in the back of Kadu’s frantic thoughts. Just because Jurr didn’t come to him this night, didn’t mean that she would never sneak into his room again. She needed space to think. Jurr was a planner, even if she didn’t always remember those plans. She’d need to be sure of her next step, and sharing his bed after the day they’d had probably would be a bad idea. Hormones were treacherous betrayers that had ruined the careers and lives of countless throughout history. Those reassurances didn’t keep him from inhaling the scent from her pillow and hoping.

Another idea, one more terrifying than her rejection, struck Kadu. What if Jurr’s implants had malfunctioned. She might not even remember this afternoon. She might not remember him. It could be for the best, of course. If Jurr forgot about their kiss, about the heated sparring match, then it would be over. A heavy weight settled in Kadu’s chest. He didn’t want to be forgotten. Jurr wasn’t simply the woman he’d fallen in love with, but a trusted friend. Kadu couldn’t imagine living a life where he wasn’t allowed to express his affections, be they platonic or romantic.

Kadu’s rapid fire fretting had worked himself into a frenzy, one that had him reaching to pull the blanket back when the door slid open. He froze, caught by the image of a shy Jurr standing in the hallway in nothing but one of his old shirts. It was pale pink with a stylized Vulptex on the front, being chased by a slogan from the tourism company in Aurebesh. Kadu leaned back on his elbow, forcing himself to appear relaxed while waiting for Jurr to choose if she would flee back to her room, or join him.

Biting her lip, Jurr rubbed her arms. “Sorry,” she whispered, taking a single step into the room. Kadu’s heart raced with mingled hope and trepidation. “I was performing a backup of my memory banks. Is it too late?”

“Of course, not,” Kadu breathed, holding back the blanket in invitation. “You are welcome any time.” He didn’t ask about the backup as Jurr hurried over the cold floor to climb into bed. She only did that when there was something important that she needed to remember. It meant that he hadn’t frightened her away; that their kiss had meant everything to her that it had to him.

Tucking the blanket around her, Kadu settled back while Jurr got comfortable. She faced him, amber eye searching for him in the darkness. Kadu reached out to brush the loose hair away from her face. He wanted to kiss her again, to pull her close and sleep knowing that she was safe in his arms. But, it wasn’t the time for that. They needed to move slowly, give one another the chance to acclimate to something that had been building for a year.

“Good night, Mri’ka.” Jurr smiled at the endearment. That name had started as a playful tease about being small and feisty. Lately, Kadu has used it with new meaning.  

Jurr shifted, one hand touching Kadu’s chin as she leaned forward. His breath caught with the realization that she was searching for his lips. Tipping his head, Kadu let Jurr close the distance, then swallowed a growl of pleasure when her tongue grazed his lip. Just as quickly, Jurr pulled back. “Night, Kadu.”

Kadu simply nodded for fear of the shakiness in his voice. Pulling Jurr closer, Kadu pressed on more kiss to her hair, smiling when Jurr hummed in approval.  He took a deep breath, basking in the scent of the woman who had claimed his heart, before finally drifting into a peaceful slumber.


	16. Ma'at/Tully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tuathal belongs to Kierra(ao3) kunoichi-ume (tumblr)

****

**Prompt:** “You need to take your shirt off.” (Secret)  ~~~~  
 **Characters:** Ma’at Stasma/Tuathal Techtmar  
 **Story/Series:** Sithy Bunch  
 **Word Count:** 729

* * *

“Rules are rules, my dear,” Ma’at teased as she angled her lightsaber at Tully. They were due to marry in less than a year,  as soon as each passed their trials and earned the title of Lord.

While Tuathal would be a prize for any woman, it was his generosity that had captured Ma'at’s heart. She’d intentionally avoided thinking about the day when her parents sold her off like livestock, believing in the power of denial. Then, the kindness of a stranger had brought Ma'at to the brutal realization that she would never be able to choose which path her life took. Someone would always be there to do so for her.

The following months had been torture each time Ma'at saw Tualthal again, knowing that he could never be hers. Until that fateful luncheon when she learned that he was her betrothed. They’d met every day since then during what little free time being a Sith apprentice afforded them.

“I would call that cheating,” Tuathal complained with laughter in his voice. He wiped dirt from his nose and mouth, spitting twice before continuing. “Only, I was the fool who set the parameters.”

Ma’at beamed, gesturing with her saber. “My point. That means you need to take your shirt off.”

Tuathal grabbed the hem with one hand and ripped it over his head. Ma’at didn’t bother hiding her interest. The man had the body of a god with brilliant, green eyes that shined when he saw her. Tully’s muscles flexed as he rid himself of the garment with a violent shake of one hand. Ma'at’s laughter when he held perfect arms out to turn a slow circle echoed off the ruined walls.

With a boyish smirk, Tuathal reactivated his blade. “I’m bound to lose my clothing around you one way or another.” Tuathal normally trained in only a set of flexible breaches, anyway. He’d actually complained about wearing the damn shirt in the first place.

Ma’at tisked at Tuathal’s attempt at unbalancing her. She had been raised Sith, the youngest of a family who knew little about moderating their speech. “Soon,” Ma'at promised with a sly smile. “Very soon.”

Tuathal’s face lit with unabashed desire as his eyes slid over Ma'at’s less than modest training gear. Both were nearing the end of their time on Korriban, and life had become more dangerous than ever. Students were vyying for recognition from their masters, each willing to step over the corpse of their ally to game more power.

Tuathal worried about Ma’at’s less than perfect skill with a blade,  constantly reminding her that saber training was just as important as honing her abilities in the Force. She’d accepted his invitation into the crypt to prove that she could hold her own. When Tully sweetened the deal by adding an additional clause–for every point, the challenger had to remove an article of clothing of the victor’s choosing–there had been no way for Ma'at to resist.

Tuathal circled with Ma’at, eyes darting to her feet, hands, and–other areas. Her smile broadened when she realized that he was already deciding which part of her meager wardrobe to take first. It became Ma’at’s sole mission to ensure only one of them ended this match naked, and since Tully had been kind enough to begin, she saw no reason why he shouldn’t be the one to continue. “That’s not fear I smell, is it?”

With a snort, Tuathal darted left, then whirled to the right. His blade came down in an arc that would have removed Ma’at’s head had it not stopped nearly a foot from its intended target. Taking advantage of his stalled momentum, Ma’at stretched out her hand to send Tuathal staggering back. She didn’t want to hurt him, only prove that the Force could be just as handy a weapon as the saber that hummed by her side.

Straightening, Tuathal offered a bright smile. “It seems I have underestimated your abilities, my lady.” He approached slowly, reaching out as if expecting to find an invisible wall. Ma’at dropped her shield and let his palm brush across her cheek. Tuathal let out a laugh. “Perhaps I should be taking lessons from you.”

“We each fight in the way that suits our skills.” Ma’at kissed the inside of Tuathal’s wrist before finishing with a smirk. “Now, I believe you owe me another article of clothing.”


	17. Fynta/Jorgan

****

**Prompt:** “I’m not going to apologize for this, not anymore.” (sleep)  ~~~~  
 **Characters:** Fynta Wolfe/Aric Jorgan  
 **Story/Series:** Meet Me on the Battlefield  
 **Word Count:** 921  
 **A/N:**  Fynta’s childhood trauma can be found >[HERE](https://cinlat.tumblr.com/post/169002082048/dec-27-first-battle)< also, the follow up drabble of where her name came from > **[HERE](https://cinlat.tumblr.com/post/168149562158/dec-03-losing-somethingsomeone-very-important)** <

* * *

“Leave it alone, Captain.” Aric paused in the doorway to their bedroom. Fynta only called him by his rank when she was pissed. Jorgan couldn’t even remember the last time she’d used only his last name.

Sighing, Aric followed his wife into the room and let the door snap shut behind him. “I can’t, Fynta. You know that.” The noise she answered with made it clear that Fynta wasn’t interested in elaborating on Theron’s comment. It had been all Jorgan could think about until the bastard kissed her. Now that he’d had time to cool off, Jorgan wanted answers. “I’m your husband.”

Fynta tossed her boots into the corner. “Theron overreacted.”

Aric snorted and crossed his arms. “That’s not what Elara said.” When she’d commented on the major’s increased heart rate, Jorgan hadn’t thought anything about it. Not until Theron came on the line. Jorgan shook his head. “I know a grounding phrase when I hear it, Fynta.” She glared, but Aric held his ground. “And, I won’t apologize for prying, not this time.”

With an impressive snarl, Fynta ripped her shirt off and threw it across the room with enough force that it would have done damage had there been more weight behind the ball of cloth. “Fine,” she snapped, rounding on Aric. Rage lightened her normally deep eyes, but Jorgan didn’t think it was with him. Not completely. “I don’t like being submerged. There, happy?”

Aric was so stunned by the admission that he almost missed the sound of fabric tearing. Fynta cursed with the realization that she’d forgotten to remove her bracers before disrobing and part of the sleeve was still hung in the clasps. When Fynta started to rip the scraps out, Aric crossed the room to rest a hand over hers. “Let me help.”

After a few anger filled seconds, Fynta dropped her hand and looked away. Aric took that as permission to unjam her bracer. “Want to tell me about it?” He’d gotten Fynta to admit to the phobia, that was half the battle. If she turned him down this time, Jorgan wouldn’t pry further. Knowing there was a potential problem in a combat situation was more important than where that problem came from.

Fynta released a long breath that tickled Aric’s neck. Her free hand slapped her face before sliding down with an aggravated huff. “I was thirteen when I woke covered in my father’s blood. Didn’t even know it was his until later. Then, some overconfident shabiur chased me into the bog where I burrowed into the mud until Verin showed up.” Aric released the catch on her bracer and set it on the desk, noting the distant look in Fynta’s eyes. “It was a brutal fight. I couldn’t see much, but I heard everything. I knew if Verin lost, it wouldn’t be long before I was spotted. I was too scared to run anymore.”

Giving herself a shake, Fynta came back to herself. “He didn’t, obviously. Verin finished the chakaar off and we went into hiding, found Cinlat, and I joined the military. The rest is history.” She frowned at her now bare wrist and grasped it with the other hand. Sighing, Fynta flopped onto the bed, craning her neck to meet Aric’s gaze. “I’ve killed dozens of people. From various ranges and with every manner of weapon you can think of. None of that bothers me. But, splash something wet on my face, and I’m back in that fierfeking swamp. It makes no sense.”

Settling on the bed, Aric pulled Fynta closer to prop his chin on her head. “No one knows why our minds single out the things they do.” Fynta relaxed in his arms, leaning more weight against him. “Hell, explosions and corpses don’t bother me, but put me in a kennel and I get twitchy.”

Fynta snorted a laughed, then covered her mouth. “In your defense, that akk hound left an impressive scar.”

“Glad you like it,” Jorgan replied in a dry tone. They sat in silence a few moments more, him wondering what it would be like to lose everything at thirteen.

“Do you ever dream about it?” Aric asked after a while. Fynta had always been plagued by nightmares, but claimed to never remember them. That wasn’t unheard of, and it certainly didn’t appear to affect the woman’s sleeping habits.

Fynta’s hair brushed Jorgan’s chin when she shook her head. “Never. I don’t even think about it. Not until it happens.” Pulling back, Fynta offered a nostalgic smile that Aric didn’t like. “Theron picked up on it during my training. He came up with a stupid phrase that would put me back into the right frame of mind. I hadn’t heard that one in years. Nice to know he still cares.”

Jorgan had mixed feelings about Theron Shan. He wasn’t keen on how well the man knew his wife, or that Fynta tended to slip back into her old, more flirtatious persona around him. Or any SIS for that matter. However, the man had come to her rescue back on Manaan when the room began to flood. If he was the mystery man from Fynta’s reports from her days with Epoch, it wasn’t the first time, either.

Aric had to face the fact that Shan would be in their lives in one aspect or another for a long time. Friendships like that never faded, they simply paused. At least he knew that there was someone out there who would always have Fynta’s back. The woman made it a full time job, after all. 


	18. Zolah/Vector

**Prompt:** a hoarse whisper “kiss me” (Hope)  **** ~~~~  
 **Characters:** Zolah Holran/Vector Hyllus  
 **Story/Series:** Meet Me on the Battlefield  
 **Word Count:** 502  

* * *

Zolah tripped, then slid down the hill on her stomach. Toxic water rushed towards her, stopping inches from Zolah’s face. She let out a long breath, taking comfort in the pressure around her ankle. Steadily, Vector’s hands moved up Zolah’s leg until he reached her belt. “Be still,” he whispered. “We are surrounded.”

Breathing carefully through her nose, Zolah pressed numb fingers into the mud and pushed away from the pool’s edge. Vector tugged her back, steady hands helping Zolah onto dry land, then held her close while Republic troops stomped overhead. They’d barely managed to escape the shelter where Zolah regained her freedom before soldiers had swarmed their position. The intel on how much of a presence the Republic had on Quesh was disgracefully incomplete.

Vector leaned into the mud slick wall, pulling Zolah tight against him when one of the soldiers leaned over their embankment. She hated being filthy, but the muck helped camouflage their presence. Zolah held her breath, focusing on Vector’s heartbeat to keep herself awake while the drugs from breaking the Castellan Restraints tried to pull her under.

Zolah’s head throbbed, causing images to blur before her eyes. Tightening her hold on Vector’s jacket, she did what she’d never done before; Zolah clung to another being. Vector was the only one left whom she could wholly rely on. The one man who wouldn’t stand by while she was used. Once he’d figured out how wrong her responses were, Vector had refused to leave Zolah’s side until their quest led them to this hell of a planet. Only after was she able to explain, and thank him for his diligence.

“They are gone, beloved.” Vector’s voice pulled Zolah from a daze, and she shook her head to clear the fog. “It is safe to move.”

As Vector started to rise, Zolah pushed him back against the embankment. “Kiss me,” she whispered, voice hoarse from the toll on her body.

Solid, black eyes studied Zolah’s face before finally nodding. Any other man might have wondered if she’d finally gone insane, but Vector knew. He understood Zolah’s need to feel something real after nearly a year of living as a wraith. His lips were warm against hers, soft and gentle, everything she needed to remember who she was.

When Vector pulled away, his thumb brushed over Zolah’s chin. “We must return to the ship,” he advised. “There is no way to know if reprogramming your mind will have lasting effects. We will feel better after Lokin examines you.”

Zolah nodded. “Of course, it will be good to have control of my body once more.” Though, she didn’t miss the stricken look on Vector’s face, Zolah waved it away. “Nothing like that, love.” For the first time in what felt like forever, Zolah had hope for a more controlled future. One where she set the parameters of her actions. As they scrambled from the pit of poisoned water, Zolah vowed to the universe that no one would ever own her again. 

 

 


	19. Xie/Mily

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are brand new. We’ll call them an experiment on what would happen if Valkorion had TWO Outlanders to choose from, and how that could be feasible. Xie is a Sith who has found himself bound to what he considers to be the most obnoxiously light sided Jedi ever. Mily runs her life by the Jedi code with no room for deviation. 
> 
> Milysy belongs to Kierra(ao3) kunoichi-ume (tumblr)

****

**Prompt:** “You started it” (Time)  **** ~~~~  
 **Characters:** Xie Lhargin/Milysy Rhiza  
 **Story/Series:** Dueling Outlanders  
 **Word Count:** 1465

* * *

 

“I swear,” Lana shouted over the bickering Cathar. “If you two don’t shut up for five minutes I’ll hand you over to Arcann myself.” Two pairs of alien eyes face her before Xie bared his teeth at the female he’d been antagonizing.

“Over there.” Lana pointed across the room where Theron sat with earplugs in. Rage emanated from the younger Sith, but Lana remained undaunted. Outlander or not, Xie’s temper had the potential of destroying them as much as it did Arcann.

Milysy folded her arms with a smug grin, while Xie narrowed his eyes in warning. Lana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Leave it to her luck to find not one adolescent Cathar in that room, but two. She’d gone for Milysy, but it had quickly become apparent that one couldn’t survive without the other. There hadn’t been time to understand why, Lana had acted.

Pointing a clawed finger at his partner, Xie snarled. “You started it.” Without another word, the Cathar spun away and stalked from the room.

“Where is he going?” Lana asked, turning her irritation on Milysy.

The young Jedi held her hands up. “Probably to pout in his room.” She sighed and rubbed at her forehead. “Tell me again why I have to share quarters with that–” she cut off, deciding that she wasn’t comfortable with that language required to explain what an absolute nuisance Xie had become.

“Until we fully understand how Valkorion has linked your minds, you must remain close,” Lana explained with the patience of a mother who’d missed more than one night of sleep. “We can’t afford another incident like the last one.” The whole base had shaken from the weight of their combined nightmares. Whatever Valkorion had done, it grew unstable the further they were from one another. Had Doctor Oggurobb not been so fascinated with their plight, their rebellion might have fallen before they had a chance to begin.

The Hutt had the good sense to reinforce the medical facility that held them. Afterward, a dividing wall had been removed to turn two rooms into spacious quarters. Now, all the Alliance had to deal with were the unending spats.

“Fine,” Milysy stated with an air of defeat. Lana knew that it was a sign that the younger woman had regained her composure and returned to being the steadfast Jedi they needed to lead this army. “I’ll go check on the man child.” Lana offered her thanks, then turned to find something less trying to occupy her time. If a call went out for help in that part of the base, Theron could deal with it.

Groaning inwardly, Milysy nodded at soldiers and Force users alike as she traversed the hallways to where she knew Xie had sequestered himself. His mind brushed hers as soon as the door slid open, then shied away. For a male with such a loud growl, he retreated into seclusion more, lately. Milysy hadn’t missed the effect that had on his mood. On Yavin, Xie had been everything expected of a Sith, lecherous, sinister, and oddly charming. Since regaining consciousness, there was a coldness to the male that hadn’t existed before. Or maybe it was that Milysy only just realized it thanks to Valkorion’s interference.

Milysy straightened her shoulders, then knocked on the door. Anger flared in the connection between her and Xie before his growled rebuff sent her away. Refusing to be cowed by a Sith no older or wiser than herself, Milysy input the override that she’d watched Theron use a few days prior. A thrill shot up her spine when the door snapped open. Honestly, she hadn’t expected it to work.

“I know that I’m the last person you want to see,“ Milysy began as she stepped into the room. "But, we need to take a time out and–” she stopped mid-sentence when her search turned up no evidence that Xie had ever been there.

How was she supposed to negotiate a ceasefire with a ghost? Milysy winced at the poor choice of wording. Not only because her Sith parasite shared Valkorion’s presence in his mind, but because it wasn’t the first spirit he’d hosted.

Fabric rustled from the other side of the bed, soon followed by an irritable looking Cathar. The bold stripes contorted to give Xie a feral expression when his brows dipped in annoyance. “Go away.”

Milysy circled the still made bed to find a pallet of thin blankets on the floor. Brows furrowed, she looked between the odd sight and the male who sat on them. “What are you doing?”

Rising to his feet with the grace of a predator, Xie grabbed his shirt and tugged it over his head. Milysy remembered seeing him training on Yavin with another Sith and marveling at the way the black and orange of his bared chest danced artistically as he moved. That was before she realized what an insufferable jerk he was. “Trying to sleep, what do you want?”

“On the ground?” Milysy asked, ignoring the ‘why me’ gesture Xie made at the ceiling. She was no stranger to roughing it, but preferred the feel of a mattress when possible. It wasn’t an unfair assumption that a Sith would only accept the best. The floor certainly wasn’t that.

“I was a slave for fifteen years,” Xie reminded the irritating woman. He felt Milysy’s internal wince as one of his memories spiked in her mind. Xie hated that part most of all, that Valkorion had not only joined their life forces, but everything.

Xie remembered the Sacking of Coruscant, the smell of fire and rubble as the temple fell. Knew the stresses of being a young Jedi trapped in her mind by a power she couldn’t fathom, the fear that her new ally was simply toying with her long after she escaped. Now, that Sith had taken root in Milysy’s mind again. It was a wonder the woman hadn’t gone insane.

In the same way, Milysy knew every dark secret from Xie’s past. His time as the property to those who didn’t care what their patrons did to him, of their blood soaking into his fur once he became Sith. Every moment that Xie had buried under the guise of Darth Nox was laid bare to a fucking Jedi Knight.  

Stepping forward, Milysy held up a hand to touch Xie’s shoulder, but he flinched away. “I’m sorry.” She looked around the room he barely touched. There was no need in laying down roots of any sort. Once Arcann and Vaylin were dealt with, Xie planned to take the throne for himself. Not that Lana or Milysy needed to know that yet.

Dropping her hand with a sigh, Milysy gave a sharp nod. “We should try to get along. For the Alliance’s sake.”

Slipping into his Sith’s persona, Xie offered a wide, fanged grin. “Where would the fun be in that. Did you see how red Lana’s face got?”

Pressing her lips together, Milysy tried to hide her amusement, but Xie saw through it. The more Sith-like he acted, the more comfortable she became in his presence.  “Very well,” Xie finally agreed in a pious tone. “Let us lure Lana and Theron into a false sense of security before out next spat. It’ll make things more entertaining.”

Rolling her eyes, Milysy clicked her teeth. “You’re ever the gentleman, Xie.” As she turned to leave, the female paused. “I’m going to make some hot tea…it’s your favorite.”

A strange sensation washed over Xie, but he shook the feeling away before it could take root. While Milysy might share his mind temporarily, he had no intention of letting her inside his defenses. “I think I’ll turn in for the night.” When she started to protest, he scanned her body with a wicked grin. “Unless there is some other way that I can be of service?”

The Jedi snarled, fists balled against her side. “You’re such a–I don’t know why I bothered.”

When the door snapped shut behind her, Xie sank back onto his pallet with a disgusted weight in his gut. His little Cathar companion would be shocked to know how little of an interest her body held for him. The more perverted his actions towards Milysy, the easier it was to keep her at arm’s length. She displayed an endearing kindness that softened even the hardest hearts, and Xie had learned on Ziost that he wasn’t immune. That mistake might have cost them the planet. He would never know, now.

Regardless, Xie refused to let Milysy’s light infect him again. Rage was the key to winning this war, and it as something Xie excelled at. When Lana and Theron needed a fiend, they would call on him. He couldn’t let Milysy stay his hand this time.

 

 


	20. Cormac/Elara

****

**Prompt:** “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but since you were talking about me…” (Alarm)   
 **Characters:** Balic Cormac/Elara Dorne   
 **Story/Series:** Jedi Sitters  
 **Word Count:** 1027

* * *

Boredom killed more soldiers than explosions, blaster bolts, and disease combined. Cormac was convinced, it didn’t matter if science supported his claim. When a soldier was bored, he did dumb osik, like setting the protocol droid on fire and nearly blowing out the side of the ship.

Attempting to stay out of trouble, Cormac wandered the _Redalur Tra_. There was always maintenance to do on a starship, but even that only went so far. As Balic passed the medbay, muted voices caught his attention. “His weight isn’t so bad, so long as it’s not on top of me.”

Cormac paused, intrigued by the exasperation in Elara’s voice. He crept closer, wondering who his wife was talking to and what secrets she planned to divulge.

Familiar laughter answered one of those questions when Fynta responded. “No doubt. He’s huge.”

A broad grin split Cormac’s face. He’d always suspected that the women shared more information about their private lives than they let on. Stepping closer, Balic pressed his ear to the cracked door. “It’s worse at night,” Elara sighed. “That’s when he’s the most active. Who knew something so large could be so limber.” Cormac choked on Elara’s implications. “If things continue how they are, I believe that we’ll need to request soundproofing before long.”

“That should be an interesting requisitions form,” Fynta chuckled. “I don’t envy Noara for having to explain it. Your reasons aren’t something the Jedi Council deals with on a regular basis.”

“No,” Elara replied with a light huff of laughter, the kind she used when trying not to encourage someone’s bad behavior. “I suppose it’s not.”

Cormac didn’t bother to hide his smirk. Apart from how badly they’d screwed over Noara, the idea of a bunch of old, prudish men trying to understand why a married couple needed soundproofing was immensely entertaining. He wondered if Noara would let him be on her security detail that day.

“This is all Balic’s fault, you know,” Elara stated, pulling Cormac from his pondering. He’d missed what had been said before, but the women had his full attention now. “I should banish him from my bed.”

Fynta snorted, and Cormac heard the rustle of fabric when someone moved on the other side of the room. “It’s too late for that. Just ride it out a little longer, that kind of energy can’t last forever.”

Cormac’s brows furrowed. Sure, he and Elara had been more intimate than usual, but that was because they were between missions. It afforded them much needed time together. She was nearing the end of her second trimester, too. His wife had certainly never complained about his advances during this part of her pregnancy last time, she’d even initiated it the other night.

“I hope you’re right. I’m exhausted, and the constant up and down all night is not helping matters.” Cormac slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from choking over Elara’s blatant honesty. He’d never imagined that she’d get quite so detailed with anyone about their sex life. “If it wasn’t for his big–”

“What’cha doing, dad?”

Cormac let out a high pitched squeak at Tayl and Noara’s sudden intrusion. Clearing his throat, Cormac deepened his voice, but the damage was done judging by the smirk on Noara’s face. “Nothing.” His unmanly cry had alerted Fynta and Elara to his presence, and both women filled the now open door of the medbay.

Sighing, Cormac raised his hands. “Okay, you caught me. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but since you were talking about me…can I be blamed for wanting to hear my wife’s candid opinion of my capabilities?”

“Yours?” Fynta asked with an upturned eyebrow. She shared a look with Elara, and Cormac began to wonder if he was digging himself in deeper.

“Sure,” Balic hedged. “You know, my energy and great big…” he trailed off with a pointed glance towards Tayl and Noara. This wasn’t really the kind of thing to discuss in front of younger ears.

Fynta burst into laughter, startling Cormac again, but it was Elara who spoke. Rubbing a hand over her swollen belly, she nodded. “Indeed, your child already weighs two weeks ahead of schedule and keeps me up all night with trips to the toilet. I yearn for the days where I can deal with its needs outside of my body.” Her gaze went to where their second son thumped beneath her fingers. The soft expression gave Elara the glow that Cormac had always heard about. Then, she winced. “I’d love to have full control of bladder again.”  

Cormac gaped, mouth working without knowing what to say. All of Elara’s comments made more sense in the light of context, and he wasn’t sure how to get himself out of this awkward situation with any amount of dignity intact. No matter the outcome, the mischievous light in Fynta’s eyes warned Balic that she wouldn’t let him forget this misunderstanding any time soon.

Elara’s brows drew together when she realized the Fynta was still struggling to control her humor. Grey eyes settled on Cormac. “What did you think I meant?”

Rubbing the back of his neck and keenly aware of the way his son and Noara watched his reaction, Cormac forced a chuckle. “Exactly that, doll.” It looked like Noara might be fitting the pieces into place, and Balic hoped to turn the conversation before the much younger Jedi finished. Flashing a cheesy smile, Balic held his arms out. “You can’t expect small offspring from a beast like me.”

Elara sighed. “No, I should know better, by now.”  Turning to waddle towards their room, she held a hand out for Tayl. “Come on, nap time.” The boy looked to Noara for aid, but she offered no such rescue. With the sluggish steps of a five-year-old, Tayl followed his mother.

When Noara departed to call Torian, Fynta sauntered up to Cormac. She patted his shoulder, expression grim. “Better luck next time, stud.”

Before Cormac’s answering swat could connect, Fynta danced out of reach and vanished down the hall in a swirl of echoing laughter. “Yep,” he decided with hands on hips. “Never going to hear the end of this.”

 

 

 


	21. Aric Jorgan with his children

****

**Prompt:** “What kind of care package is this?” (Teasing)  ** ~~~~**  
 **Characters:** Aric Jorgan and his kii  
 **Story/Series:** Generations of War   
 **Word Count:** 911

* * *

A foul odor emanated from the box sitting on Aric’s desk. He sniffed pointedly before look at the holo. “What kind of care package is this?” Three pairs of eyes shined through the monochromatic image back at him, making Aric’s gut draw tight.

Khina and Amo shoved at one another, but it was Sisa who answered. “Just opened it, ma’van’te.” The little Cathar’s words carried a weight that her siblings lacked. Aric offered a teasing salute before carefully breaking the seal.

An unexpected rush of steam exited the box, causing Aric to cough as he waved his hand over it. Blinking, he turned to growl at his children until he realized that all three leaned forward in anticipation. “Well,” Amo prompted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Is it still warm?”

Given their excitement, Aric hesitated with his initial response. He wasn’t sure what to make if it, and reached a hand inside the moisture-laden box to poke at the grey hunk of flesh inside with a claw. “It’s definitely still warm.” Now, if only he knew what it was.

Khina high fived her brother. “We pulled our allowance together to surprise you. Koth said that you loved roasted gorak.”

It took everything Aric had not to snarl at the fetid thing. Clearing his throat, Jorgan turned back to his kids. “I just ate, but I appreciate the gift. I’ll stash it somewhere for a snack.” He couldn’t sully those beaming smiles with his distaste for their gift. Or, tell them that the last time he’d eaten gorak, his stomach had spent three miserable days trying to invert itself.

“Be sure to give Koth my thanks,” Aric replied with a grin. “Better yet, maybe it would be better coming from me in person.”

Setting the package aside, Aric smiled at his children. “Time for bed, who’s first tonight?”

Sisa and Khina stepped out of the shot, leaving Amo for Aric’s undivided attention. It was the only way that he managed to stay active in their busy lives. Every chance he got while in the field, each kii got so much time alone with him. They prattled on about the ever-growing population of children on base. How one of the Quinn children upset someone; always shying away from the fights they got into with said daughters. It gave Aric some measure of relief that his triplets had the same trivial problems as every other child across the galaxy.

Amo’s turn wrapped up, and he’d just gotten through his farewells when Khina yanked her brother from the shot. “His turn was over thirty-seven seconds ago,” the kii pouted with crossed arms. “Amo hogs everything.”

Laughing Aric laced his fingers behind his head. “He’s the only boy, can you blame him?”

“Don’t you dare take his side, dad,” Khina scolded in mock offense. “None of that male bonding osik.”

Jorgan snarled involuntarily, and Khina slapped a hand over her mouth. “Where did you hear that word?”

Shaking her head quickly, Khina backed away from the camera. “A couple of the guards said it the other day. They didn’t like the food. Is it a bad word?”

Steadying his temper, Aric forced himself to relax. “I don’t want you using any words that you don’t understand. You never know how hurtful they can be, are we clear?” Khina nodded vigorously, and Aric sighed. “I love you, Khi’ka.”

“You too, dad.” Khina paused with a shamed expression. “I won’t say it again, promise.”

Aric leaned back in his chair, suddenly exhausted. “It’s Mando’a, isn’t it?” He looked up to find Sisa with her arms crossed and head tilted in that measuring way that reminded him so much of Nahir. “I saw one of them holding a helmet with that strange visor. There are more of them on base now than before. Ma’van’tan thinks that Torian is getting ready for an attack on Voss.”

“You certainly seem to be in the loop,” Aric noted. That’s exactly what was happening, but she shouldn’t be privy to that knowledge.

Shrugging, the young Cathar looked away. “People talk, and Sith kids have a way of getting into places where they shouldn’t be.” Ah, that made more sense. The human Malavai Quinn had his hands full with four, Force-sensitive daughters. As much as their children bickered, they also always sought each other out. No matter what Aric and Quinn tried, they couldn’t keep the kids apart.

“I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?” Aric leaned forward to put his face even with the camera. “I’ll be home before anything happens on Voss, and we’ll deal with the Mandalorians together, deal?”

Sisa nodded, then chewed her lip. “Come home soon. We really miss you, especially your mate.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Aric and Nahir talked as often as possible, but their entire marriage had been split into missions and downtime. One day, he hoped to hang up his rifle for good. For now, at least his family was safe. “Time for bed. Take care of your siblings.”

Sisa rolled her eyes, then smiled. “I’ll do my best. Night, ma’van’te.” Jorgan watched his daughter reach to switch off her holo, then stared into the space she left behind. Wishing that he was home wouldn’t make it happen, so Aric forced himself to stand and carry on with his duties. First of which, would be disposing of the poisonous gift. Then, he’d start planning his revenge on Koth.


	22. Brothers Ari Drellik and Nuada Techtmar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nuada belongs to Kierra (ao3) kunoichi-ume (tumblr)

**Prompt:** “Running seems to be all you’re good at” (Storm)  ~~~~  
 **Characters:** BrothersAri Drellik & Nuada Techtmar  
 **Story/Series:** Sithy Bunch  
 **Word Count:**  912  
 **A/N:** Yes this is Ari all grown up, but swtor won’t give me child characters and I have zero talent with art. :P Besides, this will not be the last “Talos” style speech Ari has to give Nuada.

* * *

Ari parked the bike on the edge of the clearing and looked up. A hidden entrance opened into a cave roughly two hundred meters up, but sheets of rain concealed it from view. Gathering energy into his legs, Ari pushed off the ground and landed on the narrow ledge, arms flailing when his foot slipped. With a quick glance to make sure no one saw, Ari straightened his tunic and entered the cave.

“Go away.” Nuada’s voice echoed off the onyx walls before the boy could finish shaking the water from his hair.

“It that any way to greet your brother?” Ari ducked as a rock zipped overhead. “That’s more like it.”

The projectile clattered past as Ari moved on to Nuada’s favorite hiding spot. The older boy thought that he was clever, but Ari had taken more lessons from their mother on tracking people through the Force. Originally, it had been his pitiful attempt to find Uncle Tully, but Ari had found more practical uses for it.

With a sigh that resonated through the large chamber, Nuada dropped from a notch above Ari. “I don’t want to play, right now.”

“And, I don’t want to be out here freezing my ass off in the middle of winter,” Ari snapped back. “Guess we all lose, huh?”

With a grimace that looked just like their mother, Nuada’s tone hardened. “No one asked you to come out here. Now, what do you want?”

“In short?” Ari began, moving to start a fire by the vent they’d found last month. “For you to stop being such a dick.”

Nuada flapped his hands. “You better be glad mum isn’t here.” Ari snorted a laugh. There was a reason they had this cave. It was a secret place where they could escape the rigidity of Nuada’s birthright and be boys. Neither dared to swear in front of their mother, or Ari’s father, for that matter, but this spot allowed them to practice some of the freedoms that they might experience as adults. Like Uncle Nik or Pierce. At those two understood what young boys needed.

Flopping onto the cushion across from Ari, Nuada shot a string of lightning into the fire pit. Ari yelped and fell back, landing on his rear. “Could’ve warned me,” he grumbled.

Nuada had picked up that talent not long ago, and enjoyed rubbing it in Ari’s face. Nuada grinned in reply, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “He’s been gone for most of our lives, and now that–man wants to waltz in and be a part of it again?” Crossing his arms, Nuada shook his head. “That’s not how it works.”

“Looked to me like he limped in,” Ari stated, poking at the small flame with a stick. When Nuada didn’t reply, Ari pointed the smoldering wood at his brother. “He’s your dad, Nuada. Man up, and get to know him. Uncle Tully’s been a prisoner for five years, don’t you think that’s punishment enough?”

Nuada’s scowl deepened as purple electricity danced along his fingers. “Fine, be the asshole that everyone thinks you are.”

As expected, that got a rise out of the other boy. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Nuada had spent most of his life battling the stigma of the typical Sith child. Add onto it that his father was the Emperor’s Wrath, plus a mother on the Dark Council, it had made for more than one tough lesson when they were little.

Meeting his brother’s angry gaze, Ari stood with hands on hips. “I mean, ever since Tuathal returned, running seems to be all you’re good at anymore.”

A storm of emotions swirled behind Nuada’s eyes, making them glow a dim purple. Their mother’s did that from time to time, usually when she was too angry to speak or preparing for battle. This was the first time that Ari had seen it in Nuada, and he had to fight the instinct to retreat. If you can’t to one, do the other. It was Uncle Nik’s motto, and Ari hoped that it worked this time. “Go on, hit me,“ Ari goaded. "Let’s see if there’s enough Sith in you to strike your own brother.”

That succeeded in startling Nuada. Ari breathed a sigh of relief when his brother shook out clenched hands, then fell back into his cushion. Ari squatted next to him. “He’s your dad, Nuada. Didn’t you see what they did to him? Don’t torture the poor man more.”

“What if he leaves again?” Nuada asked, anger still evident, but manageable. It was the first time that the boy had admitted to being anything but furious with his father for abandoning them. Even when they all knew it hadn’t been by choice. In Nuada’s eyes, Tully should have stayed with his family instead of going to that meeting with Darth Marr.

Placing a hand on the back of his brother’s head, Ari smiled. “Wouldn’t you rather have a few good memories of your own, than be forced to share someone else’s later?”

Nuada snorted. “Now, you sound like your dad.”

“My dad happens to be great,” Ari responded with mock indignity. “I’m proud to be a Drellik.”

“Wish I was,” Nuada mumbled. Ari sighed and pushed to his feet. His brother was as stubborn as Vette and their mother combined. He wouldn’t come around to logic until he was ready. In the meantime, Ari would stand vigil and offer whatever support he could, even when it wasn’t wanted.


	23. Ma'at/Talos

**Prompt:** “I hate watching you do this to yourself.” (Uncomfortable)  ~~~~  
 **Characters:** Ma’at Stasma/Talos Drellik  
 **Story/Series:** Sithy Bunch  
 **Word Count:** 682  
 **A/N:**  Set while Tully is locked in carbonite  

* * *

“Ma’at?” Darth Imperius looked up at the sound of Talos’s voice. He hovered in the doorway to her study, waiting for permission to enter. With a wave, Ma’at beckoned for her lover to approach.

Talos sat close enough to offer comfort without encroaching on Ma’at’s personal space. “Can’t sleep, darling?” She’d tried not to wake him when slipping from their bed, but Talos always knew.

With a furtive glance towards the dark frame that led to her own room, Ma’at shook her head. She’d shared Talos’s quarters almost every night since Tuathal had gone missing. Ma'at refused to believe that her husband was dead, but the emptiness of that space pushed her to the point of panic. Tully was still out there, imprisoned on the far reaches of their map. She would know if his life had been snuffed out, their connection was too strong for Tully to pass into the afterlife without her knowledge.

Every night Tuathal called in Ma'at’s dreams. They battled forces that she couldn’t see, and his combined fear and rage were overwhelming. Yet, no matter how strong the sensations in the dream realm, they became muted once she woke. It infuriated Ma'at that she couldn’t track him, and terrified her as to what that could mean.

“I miss him too,” Talos whispered into the dark room. Shadows from the fireplace danced across his sharp features, making him look older, tired. Green eyes so different from her husband’s turned to greet Ma'at with a sad smile. “But, you must sleep. I hate watching you do this to yourself, and Tuathal would not approve, either.”

Ma’at shifted to lean against her lover, sighing when Talos slid an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. “It’s been nearly a year. His children no longer remember him past the stories we tell. I don’t know what to do.” The idea of admitting defeat soured on Ma’at’s tongue, but they were running out avenues to search. With Malavai on his own mission, Pierce and Ashara starting a family, and Vette working freelance, Ma’at felt like her world was falling apart. She felt helpless.

“We soldier on,” Talos answered as if it was the most obvious solution. “Lord Tuathal will not give up, and we will find him.” With a gentle squeeze, Talos kissed the top of Ma’at’s head. “I will aid you in whatever way I can, and his children will never lack for love.”

Sliding her arms around his lean waist, Ma’at hugged Talos tighter. “He always respected you.” Tuathal had liked her chipper archeologist from the start. He was the one who urged Ma’at to trust her instincts where Talos was concerned, and had loved Ari as his own. There was little doubt in Ma'at’s mind that Tully would appreciate Talos stepping in for his own children.

Talos’s chest expanded in a light chuckle. “He was always something of a hero to me.” Ma’at angled her face to see the almost shy smile on his lips. With a shrug, Talos continued. “Well can you blame me. I’d never met a Sith who didn’t throw his weight around…or mine.” Ma’at snickered, though she had no reason to believe that he was joking. She’d met his brother, after all.

Settling deeper into the cushions, Talos sighed. “It warmed my heart to see him dote on you and Nuada. Then, to know that he openly approved of my seeking your favor. It was more than a man of my station could hope for. And when Ari was born…” Ma'at had sensed her lovers fear when they realized who her second son belonged to. Tuathal could have chosen to destroy the child and Talos, it was his right as Sith. Instead, he’d counted Ari as another extension of their ever-growing family and made sure that none would ever threaten the boy.

A sad light entered Talos’s eyes before they hardened with a determination that Ma'at had seen before. “I count Tuathal amongst my closest friends, and we will bring him home.” Brushing a knuckle under her chin, Talos kissed her lips. “Together.”


	24. Sadio/Torian

**Prompt:** “I miss moments like this more than anything.” (Companion) ** ~~~~**  
**Characters:** Sadio Edan/Torian Cadera  
**Story/Series:** The Lost Medallion  
**Word Count:** 604  
**A/N:** This Fic is **NSFW.** And Mando’a at the end for whoever is interested.

* * *

Torian pressed his cheek against Sadio’s hair, losing himself in the rhythm of their bodies. It had been a month since he’d last seen his wife. Sadio’s duties to the alliance kept her away more than his to the Mand’alor, but they made it work. Torian had forgotten the amazing feel being pressed so close, always welcoming. While his wife might be a damn good scrapper, Sadio wasn’t the warrior that surrounded Torian every day. Instead of hard muscles that pushed against him, Sadio’s lush curves cradled his body.

“You’re beautiful,” Torian whispered into Sadio’s hair, smiling when she answered with a breathy laugh. He pushed onto his elbows to watch the desire in her eyes, never slowing his pace.

“You’re already getting lucky,” Sadio teased, sucking in a sharp breath when Torian changed the angle of his thrust. Her eyelids fluttered, momentarily hiding molten eyes from his view. He groaned at the new way her hips rolled in response, and Sadio laughed again. “But, by all means, keep the compliments coming.”

Sadio lifted her hips, and Torian cursed at the unexpected jolt of pleasure that shot down his spine. His pace stuttered a moment before he pulled out of her completely. “Sorry, cyare,” Torian said in between kisses. “I’m not done with you so soon.” Torian hated that these stolen moments came so few and far between. That there was never enough time to regain his stamina before they were separated again.

Pushing against Torian’s shoulder, Sadio grinned. “Good, because neither am I.”

Torian acquiesced to his wife’s demands and rolled onto his back. Sadio clambered on top, eyes narrowed in a threat when he started to laugh. Torian mimed sealing his lips and laced his fingers behind his head. “I’m all yours, riduur.”

Reaching between them, Sadio angled to take him in again. Torian ground his teeth, determined to meet his wife’s smug grin with one of his own. He almost succeeded until she did that thing with her hips. Gasping, Torian’s hands snapped to her waist as he thrust against her. One day, he’d figure out how to counter that move, but at the moment… “Fierfek.”

Sadio’s palms pressed Torian’s shoulder’s against the mattress as she took control of their lovemaking. “Olaror to ast,” he breathed. Torian was fast approaching his limits, and Sadio knew it. He watched her skin slide against him, angling his hips to thrust deeper. The sensation pushed him over the edge. Even through the pleasure coursing through his body, Torian felt Sadio’s release and laughed in triumph, before cursing when she bottomed out with a rhythmic pulsing.

Trembling, Sadio collapsed against Torian’s chest, her heart beating in time with his. He sighed with closed eyes, drinking in the simple pleasure of being in her company. After his breathing was under control, Torian kissed the side of Sadio’s neck. She rolled to the side and pillowed her head on his stomach, fingers tracing the scars marring his skin. “I miss moments like this more than anything,” Sadio finally admitted.

“Me too.” Torian brushed his fingers through Sadio’s hair. It had grown since their last meeting, another reminder of how much time he’d missed. “Come back with me.”

Sadio placed a gentle kiss on Torian’s abs. He knew that she couldn’t, but each time they parted ways, he left more of his heart with her. Torian wondered if they’d ever share a life, or if loneliness would continue to be his faithful companion. Folding Sadio in his arms, Torian pushed those thoughts away. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

“Me too,” Sadio whispered. “No matter the parsecs that separate us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando’a:  
> olaror to ast: come with me  
> Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum: “I love you” Lit. “I hold you in my heart”


	25. Fynta, Noara, and Cormac (Butt Chart 2.0)

**Prompt:** “That doesn’t even make sense!” (Laughter)   
 **Characters:** Fynta, Ahuska, Noara, & Cormac  
 **Story/Series:** –  
 **Word Count:** 691  
 **A/N:** This was a request from [dingoat](https://tmblr.co/mKtzLBGzw8OkVG93TkrzNdA) (Ahuska’s brilliant creator) for Fynta to get caught participating in Crow’s [“Butt Ranking”](https://dingoat.tumblr.com/post/183669698058/butt-chart-20-im-just-pleased-with-how-this). Naturally, I couldn’t leave out [kunoichi-ume](https://tmblr.co/mVC-usjkJ4A_7rd-QCJ93fw)‘s Noara, and if these two girls are getting into trouble, you better believe that Cormac was involved.

* * *

 

“That’s not how it works.” Fynta’s laughter caught Jorgan’s attention as he passed through the ship. They were docked on Nar Shaddaa, and he’d thought his wife had gone out for drinks with Noara and Cormac. That’s what she’d planned, at least. Meanwhile, Aric and Elara were tasked with restocking supplies.

“Listen,” Cormac answered. “You can’t improve on this amount of sexiness. Let me do my thing.”

Jorgan recognized Fynta’s snort. “Your ass is too big for that camera angle, get back there and stop hogging the shot.” The sound of a scuffle made Jorgan’s brow raise.

“You’re both pretty,” Noara giggled. “Now, hurry up or she’ll get tired of waiting.” Something smacked the wall, and the Jedi let out a tired sigh. “Would you two stop acting like children and get over there to show off your–” Whatever she’d been prepared to say broke off in another fit of laughter. “I’m sorry, I can’t say it with a straight face.”

“Hey,” Fynta answered, sounding smug enough to have won the altercation with Cormac. “We take all challenges seriously. Now, get my good side, the prosthetic throws off my proportions.”

Briefly, Jorgan debated moving on and leaving the trio to their own devices until Ahuska chimed in. “We break atmo in twenty minutes. If you want results, now’s the time.”

Knowing that the Bothan Mandalorian was involved was too much for Jorgan to resist. He rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks. Generally speaking, nothing should surprise the Cathar anymore, not when those three were involved. However, the image of Noara kneeling on the floor in tight training gear, holding a holo level with Fynta’s barely covered ass, managed to catch him completely off guard.

Before Jorgan managed to find words, Cormac’s nervous laughter drew the Cathar’s attention. Likewise, the man wore nothing but his shorts, while the women flounced around in little more than their underwear.

When Jorgan finally found his voice, the words came out in a choked growl. “What the hell?” His hands motioned at the entire room, demanding an explanation for a question he couldn’t figure out how to phrase.

Ahuska squeaked and ducked out of the shot. Jorgan was surprised the Bothan didn’t simply cut the call. Fynta straightened with a grin that told Jorgan that he wasn’t going to like her answer. “It’s hard to explain…Cormac, wanna fill the Captain in?”

“Not really,” the big man chuckled, staying on the far side of the room. His eyes darted to the exit. “Elara’s not with you, is she?”

“Oh stop, you two,” Noara answered with hands on tiny hips. While Jorgan had seen them all wearing similar, and in some cases, less, finding his wife, her best friend, and a woman he looked at like a daughter huddled in the Jedi’s room in such a state made logical thought difficult. Completely unperturbed by Jorgan’s presence, Noara continued. “It’s for Crow’s Butt Chart 2.0.”

“That–” Jorgan sputtered, then pressed the fingers of both hands to his temple and took a deep breath. “That doesn’t even make sense.”  Not that he should expect it too.

Sounds drew everyone’s attention to the holo where only Ahuska’s eyes and the tips of her ears could be seen. “Email it to me, gotta go, bye!”

The call cut before anyone could respond, and Fynta narrowed blue eyes on her husband. “Great, now we’ll have to wait until they can transmit again to find out our results.”  Jorgan’s mouth worked, opening and closing without forming words because how the hell was he supposed to reply to that?

As Fynta stomped out, and Cormac slinked by with one more cautious look around for his wife, Jorgan was left in the room with Noara. She grinned up at him before patting his shoulder. “We could always send a shot of yours too.”

Even without fully understanding what Crow’s chart was, the thought of being involved with it mortified the Cathar. “Pass,” Jorgan replied too quickly, earning him another giggle from the Jedi. With a shake of his head, Jorgan backed out of the room. Next time, he’d stay out of it.


	26. Trev & Jurr (Space Punks)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jurr belongs to Kierra (Ao3) Kunoichi-ume (Tumblr)

**Prompt:** “There was nothing more you could have done.” (Fear)  ** ~~~~**  
 **Characters:**  Space Punks Trev Brawlin & Jurr Jiin  
 **Story/Series:** Jedi Sitters  
 **Word Count:** 757

* * *

“Hurry, Trev, I need you.” Jurr’s image vanished as the Jedi tossed a credit chip into the cabbie’s lap and bolted from the speeder. The panic in his little sister’s voice set Trev’s heart pounding, making the world feel like it was moving in slow motion. Throwing his hand out, Trev forced the doors to the medcenter open from a distance so that he wouldn’t have to slow.

“Sir, you can’t go back there.”

Trev ignored the man at the nurses’ station as he chased Jurr’s Force signature. He’d been on a date with Kira when the call came through. Had it been anyone other than Kadu’s signal, Trev would have ignored it in favor of spending time with his girlfriend. Given that the Cathar was Jurr’s protector and mental guardian, Trev always answered his calls. Seeing Jurr on the other end had been a shock, then he’d noticed the blood.

The tremor in Jurr’s voice told Trev that she was barely holding herself together. All he’d managed to get from their choppy conversation was that Kadu had been wounded, then the signal failed. Kira had told Trev to go, that she’d handle the bill and catch up after. He hadn’t argued, simply ran for the first cab.

Trev’s frantic pace almost made him bypass the room that held Jurr’s essence. He paused to gather himself, trying to avoid upsetting his sister more, then reached out for Kadu’s lifeforce. It was faint, not at all appropriate for the vibrant Cathar. Steeling himself for the worst, Trev entered the room only to be ambushed by Jurr.

“It’s all my fault,” she whimpered into Trev’s shirt, arms constricting around his neck as she held him close. It was a reminder of how strong the little soldier could be.

“I’m here now, tell me what happened.” Trev pried Jurr’s arms loose, then urged her towards the chairs. Kadu rested in the bed with a single white sheet draped over his torso and legs. Machines chimed, Trev assumed meaning that his old friend was stable. Seeing Kadu so still was disconcerting.

Jurr lowered herself onto the edge of the chair closest to Kadu, then took his hand with a shaky breath. “Something happened with my implants.” She growled, glaring at the fingers that wrapped around Kadu’s. “We were in a firefight, then someone was crushing me.”

Looking up, Trev saw the tears gathering in Jurr’s one, good eye. “I think there might have been an explosion, maybe it fritzed my implants, but there was so much blood, and Kadu wasn’t moving.” Her chest rose and fell in rapid pants that signaled a panic attach. With a long breath, Jurr regained control. Trev marveled at how far she’s come from that little, angry child in the medical facility, to this commander of men.

“He saved me, and I don’t even remember it. All I could do was call for help and…” Trev saw the self-blame and fear, in the hard set of Jurr’s jaw. That treacherous voice that said she was as useless as everyone believed her to be.

Trev took her other hand and squeezed. “Breathe, JJ. There was nothing more you could have done.” When she refused to look at him, Trev softened his tone. “You got Kadu to safety, probably saved his life.”

Jurr shook her head, refusing to see reason. “I almost got him killed. How can I lead a squad when I need constant supervision? What were they thinking putting me in charge?”

“Kadu did his job as your protector and husband,” Trev reminded Jurr. “Trust me, he’d rather be in that bed than you. Cathar are tough, and they heal faster.“ Looking to change the subject, he deferred to another topic. "What did the doctor say?”

“That the next six hours will tell,” Jurr shrugged. By the way her eye settled on the Cathar, Trev knew that he hadn’t silenced the degrading voices inside.

Sighing, Trev leaned back. “I’ll stay with you.” Making a show of getting comfortable, he added. “And, Kira will be here with food, soon.” Trev hoped, at least. They had just ordered the entree when Trev darted from the restaurant.

When Jurr offed a mute nod, Trev decided it might also not be a bad idea to ask Kira to bring some of Jurr’s favorite candies and her drawing tablet. It was going to be a long six hours, but Trev couldn’t leave her alone like this. It was his duty as her surrogate big brother, and Kadu would never forgive him.

 

 


	27. Kaeto/Kozen

**Prompt:** hurts to be close (Stranger)  ** ~~~~**  
 **Characters:**  Darth Kozen (Wrath)/Kaeto Vaa (Hero of Tython)  
 **Story/Series:** Meet Me on the Battlefield  
 **Word Count:** 550

* * *

Kaeto hugged the dagger to her chest as she crept through  _The Fury_. She’d spent too long in the presence of the Sith and felt herself slipping closer to darkness every day. Meditation offered no escape, Kozen was there in her thoughts, sifting through memories that Kaeto could no longer hide. Her attachment to him hadn’t been clear until earlier that day when she’d allowed an innocent to die in his place.

A noise made Kaeto pause, and she held her breath until the creature snorted and his mind settled. She should wait until Broonmark departed in two days, but Kaeto feared that she might be lost if she tarried any longer. Leaving was no longer an option. Darth Kozen drew her like a moth to the flame and one day he would consume her.

Having reached Kozen’s quarters, Kaeto hesitated. He was no longer a stranger, merely a Sith in need of being put down. Kozen mattered to the Togruta knight in a way no one had before. The blade felt impossibly heavy, urging Kaeto to turn away. That wasn’t an option, she had to face him now and learn who she truly was. Activating the door, Kaeto slipped into the Sith’s room and slinked towards his sleeping form.

Kozen’s back was to her, his mind calm when Kaeto reached out to ascertain his awareness. For all appearances, the Sith was asleep. Kaeto stood over the bed, dagger poised over his ridged spine. It wouldn’t take much, a few pounds of pressure in the right spot and their link would be severed forever. Kaeto’s fingers tightened around the hilt at the image of his blood soaking her hand. Her chest ached, breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Placing the tip of the blade against Kozen’s skin, Kaeto envisioned the tip sinking in, the red skin parting to allow it access to his heart. Kozen’s sharp gasp filled her mind, eyes wide with hurt and betrayal. “I’m sorry,” she wept.

“Kaeto.” The quiet baritone brought Kaeto from her vision to find Kozen’s eyes shining in the dark. His fingers wrapped around the wrist that still held the dagger, fingers pressing to encourage her to release it. Kaeto obeyed.

The Togruta sagged against Kozen’s bed, knowing that she had failed, that she would always be a failure as a Jedi. “I can’t do it.”

“I know,” Kozen answered, pulling Kaeto into his arms. He slept in the nude, arousal plain through the thin material that separated them. “You could no more harm me than I can you.” The Sith breathed along her neck, letting his teeth catch the sensitive juncture between ear and montral. “We are linked, Kaeto Vaa.”

Those words shattered the last resisted in Kaeto’s mind. Her fingers gripped the back of Kozen’s skull, pulling him into a brutal kiss. She couldn’t deny it any longer, the Force had brought Sith and Jedi together for a purpose, and they would be unstoppable together.

Growling, Kozen rolled Kaeto to lie beneath him, ridding them of any fabric that blocked his path. Kaeto closed her eyes and submitted to the pressure on her defenses, allowing Kozen access to both mind and body. With it came a sense of freedom, and for the first time since Kaeto could remember, she felt whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two have a stupidly unhealthy relationship. I'm not sure if it'll ever get any better, but it's theirs so I go with it.


	28. Girls Night Out (Fynta, Jurr, Noara, & Elara)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jurr and Noara belong to Kierra (Ao3) Kunoichi-ume (Tumblr)

**Prompt:** “I’ve lost count of the promises I’ve broken for you.” (Wild)  ** ~~~~**  
 **Characters:**  Fynta Wolfe, Elara Doren, Noara Starspark, & Jurr Jiin  
 **Story/Series:** Jedi Sitters  
 **Word Count:** 775  
 **A/N:**  We’ve decided to give Jurr a service dog. So, meet Brutus.

* * *

“Don’t tell Jorgan,” Fynta reiterated as she worked with Brutus to haul Jurr back to her feet. “We can handle this.” The woman grunted, then slid back to the floor with her back braced against the akk’s side.

It was supposed to be a simple night. Go out with the girls, have a few drinks, and work off some stress. Easy, nothing wild. Fynta hadn’t even taken them to a rough part of town. This bar was perfectly within the terms Kadu had specified.

“Good thing Kadu wouldn’t back down about the akk dog, huh?” Noara asked with a cheeky grin that Fynta didn’t appreciate at all. There were times when she questioned the Jedi’s claim that she couldn’t read minds. Far too often, Noara gave voice to what Fynta was thinking. Usually, to Fynta’s detriment.

Brutus released a hacking bark to alert the group that his ward was coming around. Fynta had to give it to the wonder Jetiise. When Noara, Trev, and Kadu put their heads together, there wasn’t much they couldn’t accomplish. Having Havoc Squad relabeled as a canine unit had taken months, but allowed Kadu to usher in a service animal to keep an eye on Jurr when he couldn’t. Because clearly, Fynta wasn’t qualified.

“She’ll be fine,” Fynta said to no one in particular. “Jurr and I met under similar circumstances, and that turned out alright.”

The woman in question blinked her singular eye, then narrowed it at Fynta. “You can take your hands off me.”

“Shab,” Fynta cursed. The Jurr she knew wouldn’t be so suspicious of finding herself slung over one of their shoulders. That Jurr would ask if they’d won. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Jurr leaned back against Brutus, then leapt forward when he shifted. As expected, the akk dog understood what his part in all of this was. Fynta wasn’t an expert, but she knew that both Jurr and the akk had minute traces of Force-sensitivity that allowed them to form a unique bond. Jurr’s Jedi brother and her husband had managed similar connections to help her subconscious know them even when her implants failed. Brutus nuzzled Jurr’s leg and released what Fynta could only describe as a short purr. The sound triggered something in Jurr, who smiled and scratched behind one of the dog’s scaly ridges. At least Fynta had that going for her.

“His name is Brutus,” Elara stated as she knelt in front of Jurr. “I’m Lieutenant Elara Dorne, and I’d like to take you home to recover. I’m sure your husband will know how to help you regain your memories.”

“Husband?” Jurr asked with an edge of panic, fingers tightening around Brutus’s service harness.

Fynta winced. Kadu was going to kill her, if Jorgan didn’t do it first. That fight really hadn’t been any of their faults, this time. The four women had been drinking when some chakaar started trouble next to their table. Words, fists, and mugs had flown, and Jurr happened to be in the wrong seat. Fynta would be lucky if either Cathar ever let Jurr out with her again.

Putting on what she hoped was a reassuring grin, Fynta went with a lie she knew Jurr would appreciate. “It was a hell of a brawl, you should be proud of yourself.” Not a total lie, maybe. It had been a massive bar fight, and Jurr managed the slug the guy closest to her before passing out. “And, Kadu, your husband, is great. Total charmer and completely devoted to you.”

Elara helped Jurr stand and made sure that the soldier had a good grip on the akk’s vest. Noara slid up on Jurr’s other side and started up a conversation, answering whatever questions Jurr had in preparation for her return home. Elara hung back, hands on hips. “We have to tell him.”

“No, we don’t,” Fynta assured her long-time friend. “When Aric asks, tell him we drank and saw Jurr home early.”

The former Imperial sighed, pinning Fynta with a stern glare. “Half-truths are still lies.” When Fynta crossed her arms, Elara rolled grey eyes and made a not-so-polite gesture. Sighing wearily, she started after the others. “I’ve lost count of the promises I’ve broken for you.”

Fynta grinned as she jogged to catch up, then threw an arm over her friend’s shoulder. “I know, but I make it worthwhile.”

With a tight chuckle, Elara pushed Fynta away from her. “This is the last time. I mean it.”  Fynta offered her cheesiest grin, and Elara laughed aloud. “I swear, you’ll be the death of me.”

“Maybe,” Fynta mused with a smile. “But, what a death it’ll be.”


	29. Chexi/Pierce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chexi and Pierce are a part of my cross-faction series. This one where she earned her rank as colonel without becoming an Outlander, but because she was good at her job. Pierce, because he's Pierce and I love the big, mouthy lug.

**Prompt:** “I don’t hate you, I just don’t like that you exist” (Defiance)   
 **Characters:**  Chexi Glyph (Republic Trooper)/Pierce  
 **Story/Series:** It Could Happen  
 **Word Count:** 639

* * *

 

Pierce made choking gestures when Chexi turned away from him yet again. Her single eyed gaze held nothing but contempt, which he probably deserved. Still, the woman was insufferable. There was no pleasing her. “If I’d know you’d get like this,” Pierce shouted after the Republic soldier. “I wouldn’t have bothered!”

Chexi stopped, turning slowly to pin Pierce with that glare he knew so well. Pierce readied himself for a proper military officer’s lashing. “Act. Like. What.” He wasn’t sure if that was an actual question or not. Women were fickle that way, none more than his own.

“Like you hate me, again,” Pierce answered honestly. He’d thought they’d moved past it. Sure, their game was still on. Whoever lost their cool in the field first had to provide certain services later, but it was less about one-upping each other and more about making up. “Fuck, woman, it was just a joke.” Not even a new one, at that. They’d always teased about being in it for the sex, like saying someone married a woman for her cooking. It was just words.

Chexi managed an impressive eye roll for only having the one. The gesture she threw as she stalked away was classic soldier, though. It reminded Pierce why he put up with her moods. Damn if that ornery little colonel didn’t have the sweetest ass he’d ever seen.

“For your information,” Chexi called over her shoulder. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t like that you exist.”

With a grin he’d probably regret, Pierce caught up with his fiery girlfriend. “Bet I can change your mind.”

Chexi gave a defiant huff. “Sex won’t buy your way out of this one.”

Grabbing Chexi by the arm, Pierce shoved her into a corner and lowered his voice. “What about really good sex?”

Sighing, Chexi pushed Pierce away. That was new, she usually loved it when he got tough with her. “Damn, I really pissed you off this time, didn’t I?”

“No,” Chexi responded without meeting his eyes. “It just made me realize what a bad idea this is. You’re right, why bother settling at our age?”

Pierce bit his tongue to avoid interrupting when Chexi clearly wasn’t finished. He knew better by now. At last, she sighed. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m a colonel in the Army of the Galactic Republic for fuck’s sake. Too old for a fling with the enemy.” She stepped around Pierce. “Maybe we should just focus on the war from now on.”

Those words hurt more than Pierce expected. He and Chexi had been a–something for nearly a year. Waking up with her long curls tangled around his fingers had become the highlight of Pierce’s morning. Chexi never complained about his bulk crushing her when he rolled over in the middle of the night. She even laughed at his lewd humor, in private, at least. Now, she wanted to just stop?

“Hell no,” Pierce growled as he closed the distance between them. When Chexi paused with a challenging glare, he stepped into her personal space. “You don’t get to want more, never bring it up, then quit when I don’t read your fucking mind.” Anger mounting, Pierce grabbed his belt to avoid shaking his girlfriend. “Look me in the eye and tell me we’re done.”

Chexi looked away.

“That’s what I thought.” Peirce snorted. “Focus on the war my ass. I’m going to have a chat with the commander, then you and I are taking a few days to ourselves. Then,” he lifted Chexi’s chin to make sure her attention was focused on him. “You can tell me what you really want.”

At Chexi’s nod, Peirce released her and started towards the War Room. They’d get away, work things out, and hopefully reach an agreement. If not, well, there was always really great sex.

 


	30. Cheru/Javon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are a couple of new characters that we like to play around with from time to time. They don’t really belong anywhere, and are actually hiding at the edge of the galaxy on the planet Batuu where no one can bother them. Cher is a mute dock worker who has struck up a friendship (which led to a relationship) with disgruntled Barsen’thor Javon Konstantopoulos. He landed on Batuu in the hopes of finding peace after the Jedi Order all but fell apart in Arcann’s wake, but found a student/lover in one of the locals. Javon belongs to Keirra (Ao3) Kunoichi-ume (Tumblr).

**Prompt:** “Let them hear.” (New)  
 **Characters:**  Cherub Orlov/Javon Konstantopoulos  
 **Story/Series:** –  
 **Word Count:** 700

* * *

“Focus, Cher.” If Javon told Cherub to clear her mind one more time, she couldn’t be responsible for her actions. It was easy for the former Jedi. He was smart, brave, and fully trained in how to use his powers. The most Cherub had ever done was break lamps when she pitched a fit as a baby. It scared her parents so much that she’d tried not to act out ever again. Javon might be the exception to that rule.

A deep chuckle made Cherub open her eyes to find Javon smiling at her. His face was scruffier than usual, adding to his disguise as a merchant. When Cherub folded her arms in protest, his mirth bloomed into a full laugh. “I take it you’d like me to stop talking?”

Cherub shook her head. She loved Javon’s voice. It was full of compassion, life, and a sense of sadness that he would never discuss. “No?” The Jedi responded, his thick accent sending a shiver up her spine. “Perhaps a break, then?”

That, Cherub wouldn’t turn down. They’d been sitting on the floor of ruins in the middle of the jungle for hours while Javon attempted to teach her how to communicate without a voice. No one knew why she couldn’t speak. It was something Cherub had given up trying to understand years ago. The why didn’t change the fact that Cherub had no idea what her own voice sounded like.

Shaking those thoughts away, Cherub stretched while Javon rose to his feet. She huffed at the amount of grace he displayed, knowing that she would never be able to match him. “Don’t make that noise at me, young lady,” the Jedi chastised playfully. “I could teach you, if you’d only–”

Before Cherub realized that she’d moved, her body was across the rocky ledge and her hand over Javon’s mouth. She didn’t want to hear any more about focusing, and judging by the spark in his celestial eyes, he knew it. Pulling her hand free, Javon nodded to where she’d been sitting. “Impressive.”

Cherub looked behind her, realizing that she’d leapt at least four meters to reach him. She gasped, eyes wide in astonishment. That was impossible. Cherub Orlov, simple dock worker on a backwater planet forgotten by the rest of the galaxy, wasn’t capable of such feats. When her gaze settled back on Javon, his smile confirmed it. “Yes, you did. Now, do you believe me?”

Nodding, Cherub allowed herself to be led to the broken balcony of what had once been a beautiful temple. “The Force is stronger in this place,” Javon whispered with a reverence that Cherub wished she understood. Placing his hands on her hips, Javon urged her to the edge. When she resisted, his fingers tightened around her belt. “You know that I won’t let you fall.”

After a moment to consider whether Cherub really trusted a man who’d been a perfect stranger a few months back, her muscles relaxed. Javon had saved her honor that day, and possibly her life. He was her friend, and the only one who communicated with her like she was normal. So often people equated her silence with mental deficiency. Eventually, Cherub had stopped fighting them. Now, Javon was trying to give her back a modicum of that pride. Having someone like him in her life was still new enough that Cherub waited for it to end, yet every day, Javon lingered.

“Close your eyes and feel the world around you,” Javon directed. Cherub obeyed, focusing on the weight of his hands around her waist while trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. “You are connected to all life in this galaxy. If you reach deep enough, even the smallest spark can register.” Javon’s words washed over her, his voice lulling Cherub into a trance that she never wanted to wake from. She was warm and freer than she’d ever felt before in the universe he painted.

“You’ve spent all of your life hiding from this gift,” Javon continued, his voice close to her ear. “It’s time for your voice to take its place amongst our brothers and sisters scattered among the stars. It’s time, to let them hear.”


	31. Lyesh/Quinn

**Prompt:** “We need to talk” (Shake)   
 **Characters:**  Lyesh Hassir/Malavai Quinn  
 **Story/Series:** Generations of War  
 **Word Count:** –  
 **A/N:**  This one was requested by [@kunoichi-ume](https://tmblr.co/mVC-usjkJ4A_7rd-QCJ93fw), who wanted a follow-up to the fic  **[ _“I think we were meant to be, but we did it wrong.”_](https://cinlat.tumblr.com/post/184804294031/may-drabbles-day-11)**   So, here it is.

* * *

Lyesh felt Malavai’s presence long before he walked through the door. The courage she’d found at the fountain in her garden fled when his quiet humming drifted into her study. It was a soothing tune, one that every Imperial child learned in primary school. She smiled at the thought of him teaching it to their daughter, and wondered why he’d chosen that particular melody.

While Malavai held no affinity for the Force, he was an incredibly keen man. One who had always picked up on the intricacies of Lyesh’s mood long before she realized they had changed. That had been part of his charm, the ability to be anything she needed him to be.

Pushing from her chair, Lyesh smoothed down her robes and started for the kitchen. As expected, Malavai busied himself putting away the groceries while consulting a checklist on his datapad. She took a moment to admire her husband in his casual wear. It wasn’t something she saw often, but maternity leave had afforded the entire crew more downtime than they were used to. Pierce and Vette had set off to find some way to entertain themselves, both with the promise of returning when called. Jaesa refused to leave her master’s side, but had agreed to stay in the guest wing of Lyesh’s vast compound. As for Broonmark, the surly beast had gone back to Hoth to enjoy the climate, swearing fealty for both her and her offspring. Malavai had been the only one that Lyesh kept close.

Turning, the object of Lyesh’s interest gave a startled gasp to find himself under scrutiny. He recovered quickly. “Evening, my lord. Did you rest?”

“I suppose it could be called that,” Lyesh answered, running her fingers over the smooth stone island that separated them. “Perhaps, introspection is the better word for it.”

Placing the final jar where it belonged, Malavai faced Lyesh with a curious expression. A sadness still dulled his brilliant blue eyes, and Lyesh wasn’t sure that her news would restore their spark. Squaring her shoulders, Lyesh reminded herself that she was Sith. Nothing could harm her, not while she allowed it. “We need to talk.”

“I see,” Malavai stated, the resignation in his voice startling. He thought that Lyesh had grown tired of his company, that she planned to send him away. It was clear that the old soldier had come to this conclusion some time ago, and had been living on borrowed time. “Shall we retire to the sitting room?”

“No,” Lyesh answered, surprising herself as much as Malavai. She’d put this off for too long. “I have been cruel to you. While I have not forgiven your betrayal, I do understand it’s origins. You were in a tough position, and I cannot fault you for taking the shrewd option.”

Malavai started to speak, then closed his mouth. They’d had this conversation enough for Lyesh to have memorized it. Her husband had hoped for a merciful death at her hands over the brutal torture that Baras would have subjected him to. His droids were never meant to kill her, and the guilt over possibly injuring her unborn child still plagued him to this day.

“I–struggle with apologies,“ Lyesh began. "They are not my strong suit, so I won’t insult either of us with a butchered attempt.” She stepped closer, holding out her hand, palm up.

Though he shook with barely restrained emotion, the hope in Malavai’s eyes thawed much of the iciness in Lyesh’s tone. The small upturning of his lips assured her that she was doing the right thing. With Malavai’s hand in hers, Lyesh placed it flat to her stomach where their daughter rolled.

"Your daughter is active today,” Malavai breathed. “Strong and healthy.”

“Our daughter,“ Lyesh corrected. When Malavai met her gaze, she tried to smile. "This is your child. Always was.”

The breath left Malavai’s chest in a gush as he sagged against the counter. “I thought–” Eyes wide, he lifted the other hand. “May I?”

At Lyesh’s nod, Malavai cupped her stomach and grinned at the movement beneath his fingers. “I knew, on some level,” he continued, attention never leaving the swell of fabric. “The dates matched, but there was always that doubt.”

Shaking his head, Malavai lifted his gaze. “It doesn’t matter. It would be my honor to stand by your side.” He paused, looking Lyesh directly in the eyes. “To help raise our child, if you would permit me.”

“Of course,” Lyesh replied with a slow smile. “I’d expect nothing less from my husband and father of future heirs.”  An attractive flush colored Malavai’s pale skin. Lyesh hoped this marked a fresh beginning, a way to finally put the distrust and guilt behind them. “Malavai Quinn, would you do me the honor of standing as my husband once more?”

Though Lyesh had never publicly denounced him, it was no secret that Malavai had fallen out of favor with the Emperor’s Wrath. He’d weathered the snide jeers from his comrades with dignity. There was nothing more that Lyesh could ask of the man. She had little doubt of his loyalty now, after having overheard him telling Baras that he wanted nothing more to do with his plans, then surviving the two assassination attempts without her aid. He was alone and unprotected no more.

“It would be my deepest privilege, my lord,” Malavai offered, lifting his hands from Lyesh’s stomach to cradle her face in the same way. “I desperately want to kiss you.”

Lyesh answered by closing the distance between them. She growled against Malavai’s lips when he pulled her tight against him. “Perhaps we should take this conversation upstairs,” Malavai suggested when his hips bumped hers. “There is much that I would like to redeem myself for.”

Reaching behind her, Lyesh shoved the rest of the groceries from the counter and hauled herself onto it. It was less than graceful, but Malavai’s presence between her knees offered adequate stabilization. Biting his lip to drag him with her, Lyesh laughed. “Who has time for stairs?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for following along on this challenge, and the wonderful kudos/comments! I hope you enjoyed 30 days of drabbles. Now, to rest my brain. :P


End file.
